You're a Long Way from Home - Rocket Raccoon in Zootopia
by McKnight2012
Summary: After the Battle of Xandar, a cosmic event sends Rocket Raccoon and Groot to Zootopia, "Where anyone can be anything!" But when you've spent your entire life being a murderous outlaw and a freak of nature, can you ever become more than that? A missing mammals case, a strangely familiar otter, a rookie rabbit cop and a pair of fox street hustlers will help him find out.
1. Chapter 1

**So, the other day I went and saw Zootopia after many months of hype online. Needless to say, it was amazing. Absolutely beautiful animation, addressing adult issues like bias and prejudice without being preachy, and characters and acting that put many more adult movies to shame. I mean hell, if Bella and Edward had** **half** **the chemistry Judy and Nick have - or better, if Kristen Stewart could act half as well as an animated bunny - then Twilight wouldn't have nearly as bad (still bad, but "Forgettably" bad, not "This is the worst thing I've ever seen" bad).**

 **Over on Spacebattles . com, some guys were talking about the film, and potential ideas for fanfiction and crossovers and whatnot. I couldn't help but think that, since Disney currently owns Marvel and the MCU, mixing these two makes a certain amount of sense. And out of all potential Marvel heroes, villains and characters, who would be a better fit for a world populated with anthropomorphic animals than everyone's favorite gun-toting raccoon, Rocket?**

 **Comments and critiques are welcome, here perhaps more than others. Characterization may be the one thing I'm most concerned about by doing this. While doing Rocket himself should be relatively easy (I'll be using the movie version of him, with some elements from the comics to build upon his backstory), getting Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde is most important here, I believe. Both of them were so rich and alive - they more or less carried the film - yet I'm trying to work off of seeing the movie once (and whatever fanworks I come across). At least when I did Peace and Isolation or Lucario of House Arryn, either they were TV shows or movies on Youtube I could easily refresh my memory (Ponies, Lucario, Ned Stark), or characters that were mostly blank slates and I could add or make up stuff as I went along (God-Emperor, Longinus, Jon Arryn). Anything to help nail them down when I get there would be greatly appreciated.**

 **And finally, disclaimer - I don't own either Zootopia or Guardians of the Galaxy (If I did, you could bet your ass I'd have the guys at Marvel make a Zootopia comic, and make it part of the Marvel multiverse once Secret War is done). Zootopia of course is owned by Disney, and Guardians of the Galaxy is owned by Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios... which are also owned by Disney. Enjoy.**

* * *

 _Well, this sucks._

Rocket Raccoon, former member of the Guardians of the Galaxy, couldn't help but think that as he hung onto a piece of debris that used to be his ship, floating in the empty white void, unable to move or breathe, unable to do anything, really. It wasn't space as he knew it - Oh no, he would've died _hours_ ago if it was, instead of stuck in this purgatory dimension. He didn't even know what happened - one moment he was on his way to Knowhere with Peter Quill, Drax and Gamora after surviving the Battle of Xandar, the next there was a massive explosion, the feeling of falling through space, and then waking up... here. Wherever here is.

 _What happened?_ He wondered, staring out at the same stretch of emptiness he'd been staring at the last unknown amount of time. _It couldn't have been that bomb I left in the box, could it? I thought I deactivated the damn thing. Yeah, I must've. We had to have hit an asteroid or somethin'... What about the other one? Wait, why **did** I build another one?... Ugh, if the guys find out, I'm never going to here the end of it._

That was the big question though: _Would_ they ever hear about it? Were they all dead? Was _he_ dead? And Groot... Shit, where was he? _No. No, not again!_ If anything happened to him, after all he'd done for them, after all he did for **him**...

 _ **Did this universe just experience a Convergence?**_

If the raccoon could, he would've jumped out of his fur. Someone was here, and it sounded like they were talking right into his ear. A deep, metallic voice that sounded powerful and malevolent, full of that cocky arrogance all supervillains seem to have.

 _Maybe, but it seems like there was some spillage._ Another voice said, opposite ear. This one sounded older, gentle yet still enthusiastic. _Why? Are you disappointed that you couldn't add another chunk to your Battleworld?_

 ** _Don't patronize me, old man! You seem content letting the Beyonders run roughshod over the multiverse, leaving me to stop them and pick up the pieces. I would hope that you would be more appreciative of my efforts to salvage what's left of your work, from the DOOM that you let grow in your absence_** ** _._**

 _Ah, Victor. Even as a God, you have much to learn. Though you may think you've seen infinite worlds in your efforts to stop the Convergence, that is only a grain of sand in the vast expanse of Creation. Even if you were to become more powerful than me, One who is Above All Things, you would still be but a small player in the greatest of stories._ _Everything that the Beyonders have destroyed is only a few branches in the great tree of the Creation, one that will grow back soon enough. And all the worlds that you have laid claim to will return to their rightful place, when all is said and done._

 ** _If this is your attempt to humble me, I'm afraid it is rather lacking. But I digress._** Rocket felt the voices inside his mind now, energy building up around him like an Ion Cannon revving up to fire. His insides felt cold, as the void around him grew dark and dreary. In the distance, he could here the sounds of a battle - metal clashing, people shouting, explosions echoing all around. **_I take it this little... rodent here is for me? There's a place for everyone in Battleworld, even for one as inconsequential as him._**

 _Not this time._ The energy around him grew, but it seemed to change, like a negative to positive charge. Now he felt like he was on fire, everything around him melting and burning as he fell into a glowing light. There was the soft beat of music in the air, cheerful and full of life. _I've been talking with... an old friend of mine. He's expressed interest in this fella here, something about a brand new world for creatures like him._

 ** _Oh, you mean 'The Mouse' is showing off one of his new creations?... Very well. It might just amuse me, watching him get the 'perfect' world he's been searching for._**

 _Ha! My dear Doctor, there's no perfect world, even in utopias. For if everything in life was perfect, what would there be left to strive for?_

With those words of wisdom echoing in his mind, Rocket passed through a blinding white light, and in a moment of agony and ecstasy, fell into deep slumber...

* * *

The raccoon slowly came back to consciousness, the ground underneath him vibrating with a gentle hum. A maglev train of some kind, Monorail perhaps? He opened his eyes, and saw that he was alone in the cabin, sitting upright and looking at a window displaying an ever-expanding prairie in all directions. He blinked, looking around in a disoriented haze.

 _"_ What?" He uttered, genuinely baffled. "Did that just happen?" There was no response - guess it wasn't one of those AI-operated trains, then.

Rocket noticed right away that he was in his orange jumpsuit again (his favorite one, come to think of it), but also that the cabin was empty save for a single duffel bag on his right, with a letter on top. He reached over to open it, and began reading aloud:

 _"To: Rocket Raccoon, proud member of the Guardians of the Galaxy,_

 _As you may or may not have deduced by now, your original universe had recently experienced a multiversal event called a "Convergence". Fear not, for your friends and universe has survived, at the cost of another, nearly identical universe. As fate would have it, the chaos caused by two planes of existence colliding created some unexpected events - namely, your forced ejection from said realities."_

 _Okay, so I'm in another world, then?_ Rocket sniffed the air, tapped the metal floor with his foot, flexed his arms, even gave himself a pinch. Everything seemed to be normal. "At least I'm not dead yet," He muttered, "That's a good start." He continued on;

 _"Fortunately for you, rather than spending all eternity floating in the void between realities or getting sent to the chaotic Battleworld of our compatriot, you have been specifically chosen to go the glorious and wonderful world of ZOOTOPIA, ' **Where Anyone can be Anything!** '" _The raccoon rolled his eyes at that. "Sure, when a space rat becomes a mob boss, maybe I'll buy that." _"What sets ZOOTOPIA apart from any other world you've visited, is that not only are there no humanoid species here, but it is also entirely populated by an-thro-po-mor-fic animals, such as yourself."_

Rocket blinked, and reread the last sentence. And read it again. _"'No humanoid species... animals such as yourself'._ " Could it be true? He could understand a world without humans and their lookalikes - he had visited a couple planets where the aliens were so strange that he couldn't tell whether he was talking to a face or an ass - but people like him? He was a one-off, a scientific experiment. A _freak._ In all of his years of traveling the stars, he had only ever met two other creatures like him: Blackjack o'Hare, famous bunny pirate... and Lylla, the otter that stole his heart. He hadn't seen either of them since way before meeting Star-Lord in Xandar, and most times he just accepted that, outside of his friends, he was truly alone in the universe. Only in his wildest dreams had he ever thought that he could find a place where he wasn't mistaken for vermin, considered a pet for some bigger, uglier alien. A place where, perhaps, he could just blend into the crowd.

Sure "normal" is boring, but it would be nice to experience it at least once in his life.

Shaking his head, he continued on; _"Inside this bag, you will find all that you will need easily make ZOOTOPIA your new home. Alongside all the necessary paperwork, you have also bee given several mementos and tools from your home 'verse. While ZOOTOPIA isn't a po-dunk backwater world filled with wild beasts and primitive savages, it does possess technological capabilities and similarities to present day Terra - limited space travel, fusion power, wireless telecommunications, etc. Keep in mind, should you pursue a business or desire quick cash - spaceships are very rare, and making plasma guns and combat drones out of a box of scraps is going to get the attention of persons you'd rather not have right away."_

"No spaceships?" He groaned, "No plasma guns? So much for raising my hopes up." He opened up the bag, looking around at all the worldly possessions he now has. He whistled in appreciation as the first thing he saw were a pair of shiny, chrome-colored Nova Prime model pistols. They were rather small - basically a derringer for larger people, but perfect for his hands. They were even complete with black leather holsters with the initials "R.R." stitched on the sides. At the bottom of the handle was a little switch, the top having the image of a face with x's for eyes, while the bottom one had a sleeping face with z's on the side.

 _"These are custom Nova pistols, upgraded with a 'stun' setting. Guns are technically illegal in ZOOTOPIA, but with your track record you'd probably make your own anyway. Like Xandar, using lethal force is definitely frowned upon, so at least this way you can defend yourself from the larger animals without becoming a murderer in the process."_

Underneath that were several pairs of clothes, including a snappy-looking dress shirt that wouldn't look out of place on a pirate. There were also a pair of boots designed for his feet (and putting them on, they fit rather well), equipped with smaller versions of the mini-jets that Peter Quill had on his shoes. Rocket wasn't one to focus too much on clothes, but he could see the benefit of wearing more than jumpsuits all the time.

 _"You'll notice in ZOOTOPIA that most mammals wear clothes just like the humanoids back in your world. While that might not interest you, perhaps the jet-boots will. Many locals will be quite a bit taller than you, and parts of the city are built to accommodate them. Being able to talk with them at eye-level should help keep things fair, and get you places that might otherwise be out of reach."_

Underneath that was a weird looking device - it looked like a cross between a small datapad, and Peter's cassette player, complete with speakers designed for his ears.

 _Zootopians haven't yet achieved the technological requirements to create datapads as you know them, but this smart phone does about everything a datapad does anyway - call, text, surf internet, play music, the works. Enjoy the library of local music and songs from your boy Star-Lord's playlist - something to remind you of home, past and present."_

 _"Finally, we know that moving to a strange place can be a scary experience, especially when you're all on your own. With that in mind, our last gift for you is the ability to have your bodyguard and friend by your side."_

At the bottom of the bag was something that brought a genuine smile to the outlaw's face - a pot filled with dirt, with a little stick coming out of it. The stick had a face, which blinked and smiled, and two little arms that gave a little shake.

"Hey, Groot," He said to the little plant, "How you doin'?"

"I am Groot!" The plant chirped, not at all minding having just been stuck in a bag for who knows how long.

"Great, I was startin' to worry." He put the pot up next to him on a window ledge, facing the sun. Groot stretched out and yawned, enjoying some good ole' fashioned photosynthesis. "I am Groot?"

"Nah, bud. Just you and me right now." He sighed. "How much did you here in there?"

"I am Groot." He nodded.

"Good, 'cause I'm almost done and I don't wanna repeat myself."

 _"With all that's said and done, our final word of advice is this - ZOOTOPIA will not be a walk in the park. There are many good things about it, just as there are many bad things too. You are no longer a freak of nature, but you are nonetheless subject to bias and preconceived notions as anyone else. Even in the most perfect of societies, prejudice will always exist, whether by explicit laws or unspoken consensus. No one can control how the many see the few, but you can control how people view **you.** Will you return to the criminal ways of your past? Will you become the hero you and your friends were destined to be? Whatever you choose, know that the future is yours to make, and we shall watch your progress with great interest._

 _Excelsior!_

 _TOAA, VvD, MM"_

The letter ended, and soon the only sound to be heard was the constant THU-THUK! THU-THUK! of the monorail heading down the tracks.

"I am _Groot_?"

"I dunno what we're gonna do now." Rocket leaned back in his seat. "I don't know where we even _are!_ This is just a lot to take in, even for me."

The baby tree creature tilted it's head to the side, perhaps expecting a more definitive answer. The raccoon rubbed his tired eyes, and grunted, "Ok, as of right now, my only plans are riding this train to we reach this place, and keeping you by my side. Once we get there, I'll just have to wing it."

"I am Groot!" Groot nodded his head vigorously.

"I _am_ pretty good at improvising, aren't I?" Rocket put on an earbud of his new phone, and started fiddling around with it until he got some music on shuffle, and started skimming through some of the pamphlets he found in the side pockets of his bag.

About twenty minutes later, he had gone through about 3 of the 5 pamphlets, and was adjusting Groot's pot to get more sunlight, when an overhead display started flashing, with text scrawling out, **"Approaching Zootopia. Stop at Sahara Square in 5 minutes."** Looking out the windows, he saw that the flatlands had been replaced with small hills and little rivers. Up ahead in the front of the cabin, the front window showed that they were rapidly approaching a giant bay. Rocket quickly put everything back inside the bag, leaving the zipper unzipped so Groot could see. Going to the front window, the phone had shuffled again.

 _"Uh-uh-uh-uh-UHHH!"_ _Try Everything,_ by Gazelle.

Skip.

 _"Awugah-shagga, Wooga-wooga, Awugah-shagga-" Hooked on a Feeling,_ by Blue Suede.

Skip.

Electric, almost chimey music started playing, with the sound of an active rainforest echoing in the background. _Welcome to the Bio-Dome,_ by "Foxy goes to Hollywood".

He placed his phone in his pocket, and let it play.

As the music started building up, he noticed the track become elevated as it went around a hill by the beach. For a moment, Rocket wondered if the letter was true, and if Zootopia wasn't just some ramshackle village of mud huts that was populated with whatever species of unintelligent animal he used to be. _"Ha!",_ the song went - as if aware of his doubt - and a crescending sound rang out as the hill pulled away to reveal a beautiful metropolis. Dozens of skyscrapers rose above what looked like one massive island, but surely had to be different islands - even from a few miles away, he could see one part built on a desert, another built into a jungle, and another still built on what looked like ice. The buildings didn't have the extravagant, 3-dimensional sculpture feel of many of the buildings on Xandar, but still each one felt unique, perhaps even organic in design.

"Oh." Rocket uttered, a sound of understanding and acceptance. This place was real, and it gave him a good first impression. Perhaps things weren't going to be so bad, after all?

First the tracks went through the desert region - "Sahara Square", the "Tourist's Guide to Zootopia" pamphlet had said. To his left there was a massive structure in the shape of a palm tree, shining like a beacon in the noonday sun. To his right, there was a racetrack, where a variety of creatures - each of them easily as tall as a humanoid or taller, all covered in fur - raced each other. This area didn't seem to busy at the moment, most likely staying underground, underneath buildings that reminded the star-traveler of many inhabited desert worlds.

 _"Moving at one million miles on hour!  
_ _Using my power, I sell it by the hour!  
_ _I have it so I market it!  
_ _You really can afford it, yeah! Really can afford it!"_

The track passed over a wall, which the first real piece of engineering that impressed Rocket. On the first side, there were easily dozens of giant heaters, each of them producing enough hot air that he could feel it radiating through the window. On the other side, there were an equal amount of air conditioning units, blasting out cold air fast and hard enough to actually change the temperature within the cabin. In this part of the city, called "Tundratown" ( _at least it's not "Iceburg", or something stupid like that),_ everything was covered in snow or ice, and down below(Rocket rubbed his eyes just to be sure he was seeing right), was a river filled with ice blocks, and many different creatures - either with white fur or covered in winter clothes - rode them up _and_ downstream. Perhaps the river was artificial, and waterjets were pushing the two sides of the river in different directions?

As the train continued on, snow erupted out of these various pipes alongside the track, shooting the frozen powder into the air, and providing the illusion that it was a snowy winter's day.

 _"Shooting stars never stop, even when they reach the top!  
_ " _Shooting stars never stop, even when they reach the top!  
_ " _There goes a supernova! What a pushover, yeah!  
"There goes a supernova, what a pushover!"_

Once again the train passed over another wall. This time, on the other side there was nothing, but in front and around the tracks were massive, _massive,_ trees. They were easily the biggest he'd ever seen, soaring hundreds of feet above the forest floor, each one big enough to have multiple houses. The trees were all surrounded by deep mists, and as soon as the train entered the "Rainforest District", it lived up to it's name with a mighty downpour. The canopies stood above them, and down below highways weaved around the trees as cars sped down the wet pavement.

 _"I will give you diamonds by the shower!  
_ _Love your body even when it's old!  
Do it, just as only I can do it!  
_ _And never, ever, doing what I'm told!"_

As before, the rainforest soon got blocked off, though now it was due to the hills leading up to the highest peak on the island. The mono passed through, and soon began descending into the center of the metropolis - Savannah Central. The train slowed down as it approached the station, and Rocket took himself and his stuff to the exit. The mono shuddered to a halt, and air hissed as the exit door slid open. As the door passed away, the raccoon's eyes widened, and Groot blinked in surprise.

All around the station were hundreds of creatures... like him. Well, not _exactly_ like him: Yes, they walked on their feet, and many - if not most of them - were covered in fur, and all of them wore clothes or were fiddling around with their phones, tablets or carrying food and drinks. However, the similarities ended there. These people - these "Zootopians" - came in all manner of sizes and variations, more different from each other than most aliens born worlds apart. Many were much bigger than him, with long necks or horns or tusks, or with odd patterns and styles of fur. Many were smaller than him as well, as little balls of fur in suits and ties scurried around, going up and down these brightly colored pipes that carried them off to parts unknown. And more still were his size, but had giant ears or fluffy tails, often thin and lanky, or fat and fluffy. In all his life, he had never seen so many people look so different. And yet, the atmosphere within the station wasn't any different than the typical "civilized" spaceport - busy, but not hostile or dickish.

Rocket and Groot went off the train, up some escalators, past some vendors offering some kind of slushy drink, and out of the station. In the square, thousands more walked about, in even stranger shapes and colors, under dozens of billboards and advertisements and a giant TV screen. And not a single humanoid stood among them. Rocket smiled, realizing now that he had finally found a place to call home...

Now what?

 _"We're a long way from home!  
_ _Welcome to the Bio-Dome!  
_ _On our way Home!  
_ _Going home where mammals roam!  
_ _Long way from Home!  
_ _Welcome to the Bio-DOOOOOOOOME!"_

* * *

 **Author's Note: Why "Welcome to the Pleasuredome" instead of "Try Everything"? When we see Judy go to Zootopia the first time, the moment is supposed to conjure up a sense of awe and wonder in our idealist protagonist, as she enters a literal city on the hill (a symbol for an idealistic society or earthly paradise), and that song amplifies that. With Rocket, while he visits big, futuristic cities every other day, something about this city is different - something that is both exotic and familiar. When combined with literally just fall through space and time, the whole experience would be one of surrealism and anticipation - that all of this was strange, but in a good way. And to me, the song by Frankie goes to Hollywood fits that theme, and also served as the musical inspiration for this fic.**


	2. Chapter 2

Starting a new life was surprisingly easier than Rocket initially thought.

It certainly helped that he apparently had $40,000 stocked up in an account with his name on it. He felt a smidgen of gratitude that the Powers That Be were kind enough to take care of any financial needs he'd have right away (they were responsible for putting him in this situation, the least they could do is ease him into it). They also had him in the system, with a birth certificate from "Xandaria", a driver's license, and social security number, among other papers. As far as anyone here knew, he was just a normal small town raccoon, just moving into the big city.

Within the first hour or so of arriving - after doing some sightseeing and trying this weird drink called "coffee" - he had worked out a general list of priorities and goals to live here: 1) Get a place to live/work in, 2) Get a source of income, 3) Get to know the neighbors (both potential allies and guys not to cross), and 4) Get rich. There was also 5 and 6 (make this world more advanced, and build a spaceship, respectively), but those were more long-term, optional goals - while the prospect of being stuck on a planet with no spaceships or superweapons made him a little antsy, it'd be bearable if he spent the rest of his days living the high life.

The first part was simple enough. There were plenty of cheap, affordable apartments he could've rented, even cheap houses in the Rainforest District. However, if there were two things Rocket enjoyed doing, it was shooting stuff, and building things that go boom. It wouldn't do to have nosy neighbors or landlords knocking every hour as he tried to rebuild a Hadron Enforcer. So, while he had to dig into his cash supply, buying an abandoned warehouse was really the best choice. The one in question was near the wall separating Tundratown and the Rainforest District, which made the insides muggy and moldy. Groot seemed to like it though, and it was far enough away from neighbors that he could work in peace if he wanted. A win-win, as far as he was concerned.

The second part was a little tricky. While shooting and building bombs may've been fine and dandy in the badlands of space, it didn't really fit here in Zootopia. Hell, even the frickin' cops didn't use _actual_ guns, but tranq guns and repellents. He considered doing something like being a mechanic or inventor, but while he'd make cool little gizmos for the extra cash (he had built the Hadron Enforcer out of scraps, after all; repairing cars or alarm clock/radios wouldn't even break a sweat), the prospect of just being stuck in a garage all day seemed... just too boring for a new career. Regardless, there was _one_ potential career field that he could go into: _Bounty Hunting_. He could be his own boss, he could shoot bad guys (with the stunner weapons, of course), and he could make a lot of money doing something he was passionate about.

Of course, doing so required that he know the ins and outs of the laws around here, and building a rapport with the cops. The former was simple enough - it only took a few hours to learn what he was and wasn't allowed to do as a bounty hunter (and he thought the Nova Corps were a bunch of killjoys; These Zootopians had so many stars-damned rules for _everything!_ ). The latter, however, not so much. Bounty hunting was supposedly a token of a bygone age, back when Zootopia and the world was more wild, when predator and prey fought each other more often, and rule of law was more of a suggestion than a pillar of society. That the job still existed was only because the bail lobby was still strong in the legislature, and sometimes they could pick up criminals that the cops couldn't (either due to size problems or lack of resources).

While filing out the paperwork at the station, Rocket started noticing certain... things, in how this society worked. While every kind of mammal would come walking through the doors (either as criminals or to file reports), the police themselves always seemed to be big, often times predators. The smallest officers he ever saw were wolves, who were still twice his size. The biggest - or rather, the one with the biggest physical presence - was this big Buffalo guy called Chief Bogo. Rocket immediately didn't like him. He just walked around the place with a "someone just pissed in my Wheaties" expression, as Quill would say. There was a point where Rocket was going from one room to another, and Bogo walked passed him. Bogo looked at him, and the raccoon looked right back, each of them picking up that the other meant business. The Chief's look was one of _"You better watch yourself",_ while Rocket's was more _"I can handle myself just fine"._ The buffalo snorted, but kept walking.

And then there was the receptionist, Officer Clawhauser. He was by far the nicest guy he's met since he got here. It was actually kinda weird, he'd never met anyone this perky before. Every time he visited the station - from the first time he signed up to the first time he caught a literal cat burglar - the "fluffy" cheetah would greet him with a smile and a wave, and go on and on about some gossip in the station, or something that the singer Gazelle was doing, with a box of donuts always by his side. Overall, he was harmless, and was as good a source of information as any.

"So, Ben - you don't mind if I call you that, right?" Rocket had asked him, about 8 days into his stay. He was on his third caught bounty, having caught a squirrel wanted for Grand Theft. How the little guy managed to steal an elephant's car, he had no idea, but catching the guy and throwing him in a bag was almost insultingly easy. He didn't even have to use his zappers or rough him up - just spot him, grab his tail and toss in a sack. Done.

Clawhauser was taking a bite of a Maple Bar, but nodded affirmatively. "Right, Ben," He continued, "I've been noticing that I ain't seen that many little guys workin' 'round here. Haven't seen any little guys wearin' blue around _at all,_ least here in the precinct. Is there like some kinda special Rodent Division or somethin'?"

The cheetah swallowed, and looked a bit confused. "Oh, you didn't hear? They just had a bunny officer recently graduate from the academy. First one in ZPD history, thanks to Mayor Lionheart."

"And there haven't been any other bunny or rat cops before because...?"

Ben gave an ignorant shrug. "Beats me. I guess no one believed a bunny could be an officer until now. Higher ups are probably worried that the little guys can't hold their own against larger mammals, being all 'fragile' and 'easily scared', or some hooey. But hey, it's 2016. Anything's possible, you know?"

"I knew a bunny once." Rocket said, taking a nibble out of a doughnut Clawhauser had offered earlier. "He may've been a lot of things - crazy, cocky, clever as hell. ' _Easily scared_ ' was not one of those things."

"Hey, come on guys! I didn't do nothin'!" The raccoon and cheetah turned to see a wolf cop carrying in a weasel in handcuffs, kicking his little legs in frustration. He looked like crap, wearing only a wife-beater and boxers, with an odor of BO and garbage easily picked up from the other side of the building. He looked over at Rocket, and shouted in a nasally voice, "Look at _that_ guy! He's probably picked a dozen pockets on the way here, and I just found some seeds in the trash! Your grabbing the wrong thief, coppers! This is crap and you know it!"

"What part of 'You have the right to remain silent' don't you understand?" The wolf snapped, and marched him out to the back where the cells were.

"He did _not_ just say that!" Benjamin gasped, placing his paws over his heart. "Rocket, I'm so sorry you had to hear that! The nerve of some people!"

"What? That asshole?" He snorted. "Why should I care what some idiot accuses me of? We both know he's full of it."

"Yeah, but still that's a low blow. You, a raccoon, being called a thief in a police station. Stereotyping like that can ruin lives."

Rocket looked confused for a moment, his mind taking a beat to process what he just said. Then, he had a look of realization, and let out a boisterous laugh so loud that the cheetah nearly jumped out of his seat. "It's the mask, isn't it?" He pointed to the black fur around his eyes, smiling like he just finally got a dirty joke. "I look like some kind of bandit or somethin'. Raccoons are quick, we look like crooks, everybody thinks I'm a crook. Yeah, I get it!"

"Oh! Ha-ha!" The cheetah gave an uncomfortable laugh, not sure how to take this new development. "So, that _didn't_ bother you?"

"Bah!" He waved off his concern. "Stereotypes, schmeriotypes. There ain't no thing like me, except me! Guys that choose to underestimate me tend to get a nasty surprise."

As he left the station a little later, he couldn't help but chuckle. As bad as it might be to be considered a thief, he couldn't help but think that it might actually have a grain of truth to it. After all, _he_ had stolen lots of loot in his time - he had even worked with Blackjack O'Hare on a couple missions capturing spaceships and taking everything that wasn't nailed down, and he felt absolutely no shame about it. Yes, he wasn't stealing anything _now_ , but rather than be offended or horrified at the prospect, Rocket felt almost giddy. Here was something he could point to as being intrinsically him that wasn't something some dick scientists didn't just implant in his body or psyche. As myopic and ignorant as it might be, it was his to own: Raccoons were thieves - quick, sneaky, resourceful, sly - and he couldn't be more proud of that...

* * *

It was nearly midnight under a heavy downpour when a spray-painted van sped out of Tundratown like a proverbial bat out of Hell. Not far behind, a white limo was in pursuit, driving in a much more casual and conspicuous fashion. The riders inside that vehicle were professional - they knew where their "prey" would be going, what they were capable of; why draw unnecessary attention when the situation was under control? Inside the van, however, the occupants were significantly less care-free.

"Damn it!" A little fennec fox swore in the driver's seat, narrowly avoiding driving a sedan off the road. "Nick, what the _hell_ did you do this time?"

"Why are you always assuming it's _my_ fault, Finn?" A lanky red fox riding shotgun countered, barely keeping the panic in his voice contained beneath a calm exterior. "I'd think after all our time working together, you'd have a _little_ more faith in me."

"Nick." Finnick growled, his deep voice bubbling with anger. "What. Did. You. Do."

The fox looked away, embarrassed at how fast his little scam fell apart. "I-uh... Y-You know how Mr. Big has been looking for a new rug to put in his mansion, right?"

"...Yes?"

"And you know Joan Skunkmeister has been looking to sell that carpet made from her family's shed fur, right?"

Finnick tightened his grip on the steering wheel, to the point that Nick could see the whites of his knuckles through his fur. "You mean to tell me that you sold a rug - made from the fur of the STINKIEST family of Skunks I've ever met - to one of the most powerful mob bosses in all of Zootopia?!"

"...Yes... _aaaand_ he gave it to Momma Big as a birthday present."

"WHAT?!" He took a hard right turn, nearly launching Nick out of his seat as they went up a poorly maintained road. "You've got to be frickin' kidding me! She's like seventy years old and two inches tall! The smell alone could _kill_ her!"

Nick went quiet when he said that. Finnick didn't take his eyes off the road, as slippery and debris-strewn as it was now. But the sinking feeling in his gut told him that Nick wasn't done digging his hole yet.

"Momma Big died last night." There was a hint of sadness in his voice - Mrs. Big had always been nice to the fox, even giving him a job within the family at one point. She'd never replace his own mom, but she had been there when Nick was at his lowest, and they had been pretty close. "I went down there to pay my respects," He continued, "But Raymond and his goons started coming after me. I think they think I killed her. After everything I did for them, after everything I did for _her,_ they think I'd do something like that because I'm-" He stopped himself with a growl, more hurt than angry.

" _Craaaaaap."_ Finn slammed his head back against the seat. He didn't want to be dealing with this. He had hoped to be spending the night with a pair of snow leopard twins, a bottle of Hennessy and his _Cubs to Males_ CD, and just let the magic happen. But nope, right before he was going to pick up his ladies, he gets a call from Nick, saying he was in big trouble and needed to make a quick gettaway. Fortunately for him, the fennec happened to be close by, and after grabbing him off the street, he spotted the limo tailing them, leading to the mess they were in right now.

For a moment he considered kicking the unlucky conman out of his van, and letting the bears do their business while he made his escape. He shook his head and thought better of it, mainly for two reasons. 1) Even if he _did_ leave him for dead, the fact that he helped Nick out _at all_ made him just as equally involved, and the polar bears would still come after him. And 2) Nick, despite this recent lack of judgement and general smug attitude, had been a real bro. Work had been getting harder to come by - even as a little guy like him went - and the fox asked him if he wanted to help in his scams for a cut of the profits. Sure it wasn't the most flattering job in the world, but it kept food on the table and gas in the tank, and on good days he could make it rain at the club as much as any other gangsta.

He could help him out just this one time.

Finnick slowed down as they reached the top of the hill, as they entered a poorly maintained industrial park. "You used to live in this part of town, right?" He asked.

Nick was already looking out the window, looking at the concrete and steel buildings. "Yeah," He replied, "I stayed in that warehouse up there, third one on the right."

"You still got a way inside?"

"Way ahead of you." The bigger fox raised an eyebrow as he drew a skeleton key from his pocket. "You never know when you have to hide out at one of your old haunts..."

xxxxxxxxx

 _"I'm an alligator, I'm a mama-papa coming for you!  
_ _I'm the space invader, I'll be a rock 'n' rollin' bitch for you!  
_ _Keep your mouth shut, you're squawking like a pink monkey bird!  
_ _And I'm busting up my brains for the words!_

 _Keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe!  
Put your ray gun to my head!  
Press your space face close to mine, love!  
Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!"_

Rocket hummed along with the tune as he worked on putting the finishing touches on the "Rocket Blaster Mark 1". It was a lot like the old gun he used back home, only with a few extra non-lethal modifications. Namely, the use of "Zapper Rounds" (a pellet round that causes a strong static discharge upon impact), and a net launcher (which also came with an electrified option). He had considered using things like beanbags or repellent rounds, but beyond the obvious danger of getting the dosage wrong and killing the target unintentionally, part of him enjoyed watching some jackass wiggle around in pain as a few thousand volts ran through their body. It always seemed to warm his surgically augmented heart.

It had been a quiet night for Rocket and Groot - no big bounties to go get, no one stopping by asking to have random junk repaired. The raccoon had the entire night to just tinker, build and test out his gadgets on some wooden crates left in the corner, while listening to some tunes. Groot, meanwhile - already having outgrown his pot and now eye-level with his friend as he settled in a patch of dirt - kept himself snacking on some fertilizer Rocket picked up, and the rainwater dripping down from the pipes. Already the base of his trunk had split, beginning the formation of what would be his legs.

The clock chimed at Midnight when he put down his tools, more or less satisfied with the gun. He'd still need to clean and shine it, give it his own personal touch and style, but for all intents and purposes it was good to go. He picked up the gun, smiling as he felt the familiar weight in his paws. It was a bit big - almost as large as he was - and he'd only really be able to use it in the most dire of circumstances. But still, he felt a wave of achievement and nostalgia, knowing that he had built a little piece of home on his own. He held it to his shoulder and aimed it at a crate off in the corner, about 100 feet away. The Blaster telescoped out as he set it to "Stun Mode" first.

 _PING! PING-PING-PING!_

Air-shot pellets fired. Upon impact, electricity arched and ran all across the wooden box, briefly crackling with energy before dissipating, leaving only small dents in the wood where the pellets made contact. _Good,_ He thought, _Actual damage is minimal. Wouldn't wanna cause any lasting damage, or the perps might start throwing lawsuits around._ He then set the gun to "Kill Mode", and the gun began whirring with energy. Outside, there was a flash of light and the crack of thunder, and he pulled the trigger.

 ** _BOOM!_**

A ball of plasma shot out. The box exploded, leaving nothing but a black smear on the concrete, and tiny particles of ash raining down around him. Rocket took a whiff of ozone and wood smoke, and his smile turned into a grin. "Nice." He sighed, placing the gun back on the workbench. It was then that his ears twitched, and he heard a sound - the rattling of chains and metal. The only chains in the building were on the pulleys for the garage doors. Rocket's grin dropped to a scowl, and he picked up a pistol from one of his holsters.

" _Groot_? I am Groot?" His friend squeaked, looking concerned.

"No bud, you have to stay here." He replied, opening the door, "We can't risk anyone seeing you yet. But don't worry, I can handle whoever or whatever is here, honest." Rocket closed the door, and the sapient tree huffed his displeasure. Rather than just stay in the dirt and miss out on any more action, Groot focused all his effort on absorbing all the nutrients the dirt had to offer. His wooden body began to creak and crack as it grew rapidly, and he began pulling on the limbs of his trunk, like a man dragging his legs out of quicksand.

Quickly and quietly, Rocket made his way across the building to the garage, where the inside door had been opened by the wind. Hugging the wall, he took a peak, and spotted a van spray-painted with two canines in vaguely Asgardian attire. Up front, two foxes - one his height, with red fur and a green shirt; the other tiny, with big ears and a black shirt - were pulling on a chain, bringing the garage door down.

"Nick, are you _absolutely_ sure that no one's here?" The little one hissed, with a deep voice that had no business coming from that body. "I thought I saw some lights when we pulled up."

"Relax," The taller one replied, "It's the middle of the night, no one's here. They _always_ leave a light or two on, so no one tries to break in."

"Oh, like you guys are doin'?" Rocket called out, stepping out of the shadows. The two intruders jumped, and turned to look at him. They saw a rather large, dirty-looking raccoon with beady eyes, wearing a red jumpsuit and resting a paw on what looked like a weird tranq gun. The foxes exchanged a look, and the small one slammed his paw to his face. The tall one put on a friendly smile, and replied, "Oh hey. No, it's okay, we have a key." He held a paw up, holding a key and padlock.

"So do I." The raccoon grunted, holding up his own key while the other paw stayed firmly on his pistol. "But **I** live here. **You** don't."

"What? Here?" He scoffed. "This place has been abandoned for years."

"It _was_ abandoned. I bought it three weeks ago. Now it's mine." Rocket took a couple steps forward, his eyes fixed on them. "Now, I'm kinda new around here, but I think that mammals sneaking around in the middle of the night, uninvited on private property, counts as trespassing."

"Yeah right," The little one sneered, "Like you _actually_ live here. How do we know you're not trying to steal some copper wiring or something? You're just as suspicious-looking as we are!"

Rocket pulled out his pistol, the device whirring to life as he leveled it at the shorty's face. Finnick's eyes went wide, as he heard the whirring of energy within the gun. "Oh, I'm sorry," The raccoon smirked, "I didn't quite catch that. Would you mind saying that again?"

Nick gulped, desperately trying to think of a way out. "L-look," He stammered, "We're not here to cause any trouble. There's some very dangerous mammals looking for us, and we just need somewhere to hide for the night. As soon as the sun comes up, we'll go, and you'll never have to deal with us again."

"Maybe," Rocket grunted, "And maybe you're a pair of criminals on the run, and are worth a lot of money to the right people. Why don't you two come with me, and we'll see what's what?"

The foxes' ears fell back in fear, and held their paws up as Rocket pointed them out of the garage. He marched them into the living area, which at this point was only a couch and a tv on a table. He picked up his cellphone and was about to call the cops when he heard a knock at the front door. The foxes looked nervously at the door, already having a good idea of who was there. In the other room, the playlist had shuffled to some trashy Hyena Gomez song, it's peppy tune contrasting the dimly-lit and rather tense situation.

"You two," Rocket grunted, holstering his pistol as he went to the door, "Sit down, don't move." As Nick watched him go, Finnick looked around the rather spartan interior. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted movement out of the second hallway. He turned to look, and his eyes went wide in shock. Frantically, he tugged on his friend's shirt, pointing to the hallway as he got his attention. Nick looked, and jumped onto the couch in surprise. Hiding in the shadows was a tall... plant-tree-thing, easily three times Nick's height. It locked eyes with them, and raised it's finger-branch up to it's mouth in a "sshhhing" motion. Nick and Finnick looked at Groot, each other, at Rocket, back to Groot, and back to each other. What in the Hell did they just stumble into?

There was another knock at the door. "Hold on, hold on, I'm comin'." The raccoon growled, and cracked open the door enough to see two very large polar bears. These guys were easily as tall as Groot full grown, wearing these dark colored Italian suits. They held themselves up with a posture that demanded respect, but looked down at him like he was some loathsome bug they found crawling on a carpet.

Rocket, not one to be intimidated, demanded bluntly, "What do you want, big boys?"

"We saw van pull up to this building." One of them said, heavily accented and barely understandable.

"Yeah, so?" He leaned against the side of the wall, half his body hidden behind the door as he rested his paw on his gun.

"Do you know Nick Wilde or Finnick Fennec?" The other one asked, his voice sounding deep and rumbly, almost like Ronan the Accuser with a weird Russian accent.

"No," He said flatly (and truthfully - he hadn't known a Nick Wilde or Finnick Fennec, though now that explained why the pair were here). "Why, should I? Are you two clowns undercover cops?"

"Those two foxes have angered some very powerful people," The second one explained, "And we know they are hiding somewhere around here. It would certainly be _beneficial_ for anyone who knows where they are to help us find them." The way he stared down at Rocket, he knew with 100% certainty that the conmen were hiding here in this building, with him.

"Yeah, like what?" He challenged.

"We won't crush you like bug for starters, _vermin."_ The first one growled, barring his teeth in a veiled threat.

 _What'chu just call me, bitch?_ Rocket thought, his paw instinctively tightening on his gun. Part of him wanted to gun them down for that word alone - No one, fricking _no one,_ was ever going to get away with calling him "vermin" or "rodent" or "freak" again. But at the same time, he _had_ promised himself he would try to turn a new leaf, and not go back to crime or randomly murdering people just because he didn't like them. He balled his fists, deepened his frown, and soon his choice became crystal clear.

"Right this way, then." He said, doing his best not to give any indication of emotion. He opened the door, and the two made-mammals walked right in, quickly spotting the two foxes on the couch. As soon as they cleared the doorway, Rocket closed the door behind them, and locked it.

"So, little fox," The Ronan soundalike gloated, taking slow and measured steps to his prey, "You thought you could escape from us, hmm?"

"Raymond, listen," Nick pleaded, leaning away from the approaching bears, covering Finnick with his body unconsciously, "You know me. You know I'd _never_ do anything to hurt Momma Big, or Mr. Big for that matter! They were like family!"

"Funny," Ronan - or rather, "Raymond" - chuckled, rolling up his sleeves in anticipation, "Because that is not what Mr. Big seems to think anymor-"

 _BZZZZZZT! BZZZZZZZT!_

Two bolts of electricity fired out from Rocket's gun, slamming each bear in the back. Both of them yelped in pain as they fell to the floor, spazzing and twitching about like in a seizure. "How'd ya like that, huh?" He snarled. "Not so tough with 50,000 volts running through you, are ya?"

The one with the thicker accent growled at him, and with a surprise kick sent the raccoon flying back to the door with a SLAM! As soon as the bear did that, Groot ran into the room, unleashing a vast array of vines and branches upon them. The foxes looked on in shock as the still stunned henchmen were tied up and held aloft, who themselves were now screaming and terrified. Rocket got up, spitting a wad of blood on the floor, and glared at the offending bear with a flash of hate.

"Just for that..." Rocket pressed the gun against the bear's inner thigh, and pulled the trigger. Static visibly arched all across the bear's body, briefly giving the room a bright bluish-glow. He screamed, only for his jaw to get muzzled shut with vines. Nick unconsciously rubbed his own muzzle, briefly reminded of... bad memories. Finnick just instinctively covered himself from the sympathy pain.

"You've made a big mistake, 'coon." Raymond growled, vainly struggling against the vines wrapped around him. "I don't know what this _thing_ is, or how you got that gun, but you've just made some very powerful mammals your enemy tonight. Do you know who we work for?"

"Nope," He declared, "And frankly, I don't give a shit. Now, I _was_ going to deal with those two." He nodded to the foxes, who were now just watching in scared fascination, "I was gonna call the cops, see if they were worth any money, and go about my night like nothin' ever happened. But then _you two_ show up, threatening me, _insulting_ me! When you did that, these guys weren't my problem anymore. _You_ were. _I_ am not the one who should be afraid of you. _You_ should be afraid of _me._ "

He crossed his arms, and stared right into Raymond's eyes. "So here's what we're gonna do. My friend here is gonna let you go. You're gonna walk right back to your car like nothin' happened. Tell your boss that I showed you around the place, but that these guys-" He turned to the foxes on the couch, "-What were your names? Nick and Finny? Finn-Nick?" Nick nodded, and Rocket continued, "Yeah, these guys weren't here. You tell your boss that you lost track of them, and they must've gone underground. They won't go back to Tundratown, and you won't send anyone after them... or me, for that matter."

"Oh, and one more thing." He got right up to Raymond, and Groot rotated the bear so that they were face to face. Electricity arched through the "muzzle" of the pistol, giving his face dark and intimidating shadows. "If you or your idiot friend over there decide to tell anyone about what _really_ happened... well, first you're tellin' people that you got yer asses beat by a lil' raccoon and a tree, so there ain't nobody that's gonna believe ya. Number two, if I find out you've been snitchin' on me - and trust me, I _will_ find out - I'm gonna find you, kill you in the most _excruciating_ way I can think of, toss your hairy carcass into a mulcher, and feed what's left to my friend here as fertilizer."

He could see fear in the bear's eyes, and he was going to drive this point as far as he could. Baring his teeth as menacingly as possible, he whispered, "This ain't a threat. This ain't even a _promise_. This is a simple fact. The sun rises in the morning, what goes up must come down, and anyone who messes with Rocket Raccoon will die regrettin' it. Got it?" Raymond nodded quickly. Rocket nodded to Groot, and he withdrew his vines from the bears. They got up on shaky, uncertain legs, and the raccoon unlocked and opened the door. "Now beat it." He ordered, like Big's henchmen needed any encouragement. They walked out of the warehouse, and he watched them casually get in a limo and drive away into the night. As soon as they were out of sight, he closed the door once again, and faced the two conmen and alien plant-man.

"Groot, what did I say?" He snapped, "I said 'Stay put', and what did you do? You went and did the opposite, and now people saw you!"

"I am Groot!" The tree sounded a bit offended and defensive.

"Oh please," He scoffed, "I had the situation completely under control." Groot crossed his arms, giving his friend an annoyed look. "Thanks for the assist, though." He quickly said, which earned him an eye roll and a hint of a smirk.

"Uh, t-thanks, I guess." Nick stammered, recovering himself after... what just happened. "For saving us from Raymond. I guess we owe you one."

"Oh, don't think you're out of the woods yet." Rocket warned, pointing at them. "You two have already seen too much already, _and_ you're the ones who caused all this commotion!"

"Whoa there, Sly Cooper! You don't need to get violent with us!"

"Number one, the name's Rocket, okay? You don't know me enough to start tossing around nicknames. Number two, why shouldn't I? You still broke into my home, saw my friend, and brought those big white nitwits into this mess. Why shouldn't I still call the cops? Hell, why don't I just kill you two and solve this whole problem?"

Nick's expression had changed. Gone was the look of shock and fear from witnessing an alien plant fight bears, replaced now with half-lidded eyes and a knowing smirk - that shit-eating grin that made it seem that he had an ace up his sleeve, that he could sell sand to a camel. Finnick smiled - Nick was in hustle mode, and there was nobody better at the game than his boy.

"Two reasons," He said, holding up two claws. "One, if you called the cops, they'd have to look around the property to document the 'crime scene'. You could try to hide the Giving Tree here, but those dirt footprints are going to lead to a walking 10-foot tall plant-thing. Not the easiest thing to explain away." Rocket looked at the ground by Groot. Sure enough, there were little patches of dirt behind him, in the vague shape of his root-feet, leading all the way back to his workshop.

"The second thing," Nick continued, "Is that if you're so eager to kill us, right here in your living room, why did you let Raymond go, when you had him tied up like a birthday present?"

Rocket sighed. He had him there, though now they were stuck at an impasse. If they couldn't be killed, and he couldn't risk them talking, that only left one other option...

"Let's make a deal then." He said, leaning against a wall in resignation, "What can we do to keep you guys quiet?"

Nick reclined back on the couch. "Well, Stripes, I take it you've worked as muscle before, right? You seem pretty casual with violence and hurting mammals."

The raccoon shrugged and smirked. "It's a living. It just so happens I'm really good at it."

"Right. Finnick and I are... _entrepreneurs_ of sorts. We engage in many different business ventures and-"

"He means we're street hustlers." Finnick interrupted. "Let's not bother trying to make us out to be any different than what we are. We scam mammals out of their money with cheap products and tricks."

"Hey," Nick defended himself, "We don't do anything _illegal._ We strictly operate within the letter of the law. Just, not always the spirit. And sometimes, certain mammals may take our actions the wrong way, like the ice squad back there."

"So you want to hire me as your security, then?"

"Basically."

Rocket nodded. "How much?"

"Ten percent. All you gotta do is be somewhere nearby, keep a lookout, and keep anyone from starting trouble."

The raccoon snorted. "Do I look like an idiot to you? What do you guys do, the spinning cups game? Sell bootleg movies? I bet you guys don't even make five thousand dollars a week! I ain't workin' as two street criminal's muscle for a hundred bucks a day, when I've got other jobs that make me that _an hour!_ " Nick raised his paw to counter that, but thought better of it. They only made a thousand dollars a week on average. Rocket continued, "If there's going to be three of us, we should split it three ways!"

"I am Groot!" The tree-man demanded, reminding everyone that he was still here.

"Four ways?" Rocket translated. "Groot, look, we've talked about this. If someone out there sees you, the primitive morons at the government will take you away and dissect you to see how you work. You don't want that, trust me. That's no weekend spent at a Skrull brothel, man."

"I am _Groooooot!_ " He whined. He'd been stuck in the warehouse for weeks, and he craved having the sun shine on him again.

Rocket sighed. "Look, give me a little time. Once I get the right parts, I'll... I dunno, build you a holographic field so you can look like a mammal or somethin'. I'm not gonna keep you here forever." Groot huffed, but seemed to accept his words.

"Ok, 33% for now," Rocket turned back to Nick, "with the caveat that Groot and I get 25% each when I find a way to make him blend in. Sound good?"

"Oh come on!" Finnick declared, "That's a ripoff! All you're gonna do is stand around and rough some guys up when we need it!" Nick placed a paw on the fennec's shoulder, and asked, "You said you could build a hologram. Did you build that gun, too?"

"I build guns," Rocket replied, "And if you give me enough materials, I can build anything you want. _Anything._ "

Nick's smile grew. "So you could build stuff like, say, some cheap electronic toys and trinkets?"

"In my sleep." Rocket gained a smile of his own. "I'd think that making a couple dozen cheap phones or dancing toys-"

"-Would be worth that extra twenty percent." Nick got up, and offered his paw. "Do we have a deal?"

Rocket didn't have to think too long or hard about it. He _needed_ to keep an eye on these two. He wanted to get some connections with the people that live in the city. And it was definitely good to find sources of income that didn't have to involve the cops. He grabbed the fox's paw, and shook.

"Deal."


	3. Chapter 3

"Zootopians. What a bunch of losers. Mindlessly running from somethin' _stupid_ , to nothin' at all."

"Tell me about it." Rocket up a square of clear plastic in front of himself and Finnick, the latest model of the "Zoogle Glass Tablet" - which in reality was just Rocket's larger bootleg version of the Zoogle Glasses that came out last season.

"Look at her." Finnick zoomed in on a sheep with wool dyed a bright pink walking down the street. "They have the nerve to call _us_ criminals, when she's the one assaulting us with that coat."

"Yeah, whoever told her that was a good look should get fired or shot. Preferably both." Rocket turned it over to a tiger cub waddling next to her parents, stomping around crushing imaginary bugs. "Look at this thing. He thinks he's so cool. Hey, normal people don't need help walking, you little gremlin!"

"It's embarrassing, man! Gazelles and zebras can start walking the day they're born, but everybody else gotta do it the hard way and _practice!"_ The fennec shook his head. "The world just ain't fair, you know?"

"If there's a fair one out there, I haven't seen it yet." Rocket zoomed in one last time, this time on a rather old lion in sunglasses, chatting up a she-wolf in a clearly flirtatious manner. Interestingly enough, the young wolf seemed to be flattered and reciprocating, though neither fox nor raccoon could make out what they were saying. "Look at this geezer. Where's your wife, old timer? That wolf's young enough to be your granddaughter. Creepy-ass perv!"

"Whoa, hold on there." Finnick held his paws up defensively. "There ain't nothin' wrong wit' dat! Just 'cause he's old as dirt don't mean he can't still be a playa! The game don't stop if you got snow on the roof, so long as you got _fire_ in the furnace!"

"Alright you two, I made the call." Nick said at the back of the van. "My contact has just gone on break. We've got thirty minutes to load up the van and beat it before anyone spots us. We all know the plan, right?"

"Yeah, yeah." Rocket confirmed. "We're gonna park the van in front of the alley. You two are gonna load up a bunch of shorn wool from this sheep boutique into the van, while I keep watch up front."

"Right, and what do you tell anyone if they ask what we're doing?"

"That we're turning the wool into sweaters for furless mammals and chemo patients."

"That's the ticket, Stripes." Nick smiled, using his new nickname for the merc, "Let's get to it." Finnick started up the van, and they were moving.

Rocket had been working with the foxes for a few weeks now. In that time, the three of them got to know each other some while hustling. It was difficult to say who was more surprised: Nick and Finnick, when the 'Coon told them he was an extra-dimensional outlaw that saved a galaxy from a madman with a cosmic weapon; or Rocket, when Nick told him they made millions of dollars over two decades just selling tiny popsicles and cheap, bootleg crap. At least you could kinda see it coming with Rocket, having a giant talking tree chilling at home (though he remained rather mum about aliens in general - while most races looked roughly the same, if you didn't know what a "human" was, it was hard to then describe what a Kree or Asgardian or Chitauri looked like). Both of them insisted they had "apartments" they lived in, but Finn's van had a bed and mini-fridge in it, and he'd only ever seen Nick wear that green button-up and tie. He was almost certain that the two of them were poor and/or homeless, which seemed at odds to the amount of money they were pulling in on a daily basis.

So far, the job of being their security had been... rather uneventful. Whenever he wasn't collecting bounties or tinkering at home, he'd be out spending the day with the 'Nicks. Most times, he would just hang back in the van or on the other side of the street or room, always within line of sight. Rocket expected there to be a lot of trouble from the get-go - he had picked up that foxes were known for their "sly" and tricksy nature, and there's always one sore loser that takes things too far - but surprisingly the Zootopians were a much more restrained and polite people than he was used to. It was very rare that Rocket would have to get directly involved, and it usually meant either him coming in to prove a product or game wasn't rigged (in which case Nick and Finnick purposefully manipulated things to have Rocket win), or he'd show off his zapper gun, have it discharge some static, and scare away any would-be trouble makers. Most of the time, though, he'd just spend the day tinkering on gadgets, or using his phone to read up on the world.

Today, they were going to collect shorn sheep's wool from a "groomer's boutique", have the wool processed and knitted into clothes for various sizes, and eventually sell them to vendors near Savannah Central Station. It was somewhat skirting the law and ethical practices, but everyone would be told that the sheep gave it up willingly, and even if the sheep found out (which they wouldn't), how many of them would care what happens to the wool after it comes off their bodies?

As they drove across town, the radio began playing Gazelle's "Try Everything" for the third time in one hour, making Finnick groan in annoyance before searching the stations. _Why do radio stations have to keep playing the same damn songs over and over again_? Rocket shook his head. It wasn't like Gazelle was a bad singer - Hell, all three of them thought she was great. But she had other songs that were great, too, that never got any airtime - "Whenever, Wherever", "La Tortura", "Hips Don't Lie" (Finnick's favorite), etc. Why did disc jockeys have to play good songs so often that the listeners would get sick of it and not buy any albums?

"Hold on," Rocket finally grumbled, plugging his phone into the stereo, "Let's try something different." He scrolled down until he selected a familiar tune. Finnick's ears perked up as a drum began to beat, and a guitar started to strum.

"Aw _dayum,_ Rocket," The fennec crowed, his head already swaying to the beat, "I didn't know you listened to the classics!"

"You know this song?" The raccoon inquired, surprised.

"Hell yes I do! 'Come and Get Your Love', _Red Bone,_ 1974\. Best coyote band of that decade. Pop's used to play this song all the time when paychecks came in."

"Oh yeah, I remember this song." Nick declared. "This was on the mix-tape my dad gave my mom back in the day."

"This song belonged to my friend Star-Lord," Rocket explained, "He said his mom made a mix-tape of her favorite songs from Earth, and he brought it with him when he went to space."

As they drove on, each of them took a turn at the lyrics, and they joined together at the chorus;

 _( **F** ): Hey (hey) What's the matter with your head? Yeah!_  
 _( **N** ): Hey (hey) What's the matter with your mind and your sign?_  
 _And-a ooh-ohh!_  
 _( **R** ): Hey (hey) Nothin's a matter with your head, baby, find it,_  
 _Come on and find it._  
 _( **F** ):Hell, with it, baby, 'cause you're fine and you're mine,_  
 _And you look so divine!_

 _( **All** ): Come and get your love!_  
 _Come and get your love!_  
 _Come and get your love!_  
 _Come and get your love!_

 _( **N** ): Hey (hey) What's the matter with your feel right?_  
 _Don't you feel right, baby?_  
 _( **F** ): Hey, oh, yeah, get it from the main line, alright!_  
 _I said-a find it, find it, darling, love it,_  
 _If you like it, yeah-eh!_  
 _( **R** ): Hey (hey) It's your business if you want some,_  
 _Take some, get it together, baby!_

 _( **All** ): Come and get your love!_  
 _Come and get your love!_  
 _Come and get your love!_  
 _Come and get your love!_

 _( **All** ): Come and get your love, come and get your love_  
 _Come and get your love, now!_  
 _Come and get your love, come and get your love_  
 _Come and get your love, now!_  
 _Come and get your love, come and get your love_  
 _Come and get your love, now!_

By the time they reached the sheep boutique, the three of them had that earworm of a song firmly stuck in their heads, and still humming the tune as Finnick parked the van in front of a back alley behind the shop. As the Skulk of Foxes got out, and Rocket switched to the driver's seat, Nick reminded him, "One honk for cops, two honks for Big's men. We shouldn't take longer than ten minutes."

"Gotcha, Red." He used his own nickname for the fox, and nodded as he left. Rocket put his phone on speaker, playing some music as he grabbed a pen and napkin, and started jotting down schematics for a drone similar to those used in the Kyln. It would have a modular hook at the bottom, allowing it to switch in different components - from guns and missile launchers, to cameras and passenger compartments for rodents, and more. He kept his eyes up on the street, scanning around, but nobody seemed to give him any mind.

About five minutes in, he spotted a tiny little sheep looking at him. At first he thought it was a lamb, considering how small it was. Then he realized - based on the pant suit she was wearing - that the lamb was actually a really short ewe. She was walking in his direction, and she was clearly making eye contact with him. She stopped maybe three feet away from the door, and gestured for him to roll down the window. He sighed, but complied anyway. "Whatcha want?" He asked.

She opened her mouth to say something, but then squinted as she started to recognize him. "Are you that new bounty hunter they've been talking about at ZPD?" She asked. "Rocket Raccoon, is that it?"

"Yeah, that's me. And you are?"

"I'm Assistant Mayor Dawn Bellweather. And I'm just hoping to have a couple minutes of your time." She said that so casually, as if it wasn't a big deal.

He sighed. _Crap, a politician!_ He wasn't prepared to talk with one of those yet, especially right in the middle of a job like this. Nothing could be more beneficial or dangerous than having a public official turn their attention upon you - they were practically crime bosses of the state, with deep pockets, long memories and the entire system at their beck and call. He had to play this safe, polite, and get her out of here before his associates came back with loads of wool, and raise all kinds of questions.

"Okay," He replied, staying in the van, "What can I do fer ya?"

"Well," She began, "I couldn't help but notice that you've been rather busy in the month since you moved to Zootopia. Bought a warehouse on the edge of town, caught nearly a dozen criminals, running an all-purpose repair shop on your days."

"What can I say? I like to stay busy."

"Oh, I understand. 'Idle Paws are the Devil's Toys', and all that. But I also heard that you're also something of an inventor, and you've made your own weapons. Is that true?" Rocket bit on the side of his cheek, unsure if he should answer that or not. The sheep giggled, "Don't worry, I'm not going to have a citizen's arrest on you. It's actually really impressive."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. There's something really inspiring about us little guys doing something to even the playing field with those big guys, you know?" Rocket nodded in understanding. "Say," She asked, "You wouldn't happen to have one of those guns on you right now, would you?"

"I have a concealed carry permit, in case you're trying to set me up." Rocket warned. "And I believe it's skirting the law to show or give my weapon to an untrained civilian."

"Good thing I've got a permit, too." She brought up a permit from her suit pocket, looking just like the one he had. "C'mon, you can trust me. I just want to see what all the hype's about."

Rocket sighed, and got out of the car. Dawn seemed rather surprised at how tall he was - raccoons in Zootopia were usually a head shorter than he was, though Rocket didn't know if that was because of the augmentations, or raccoons from his world were just bigger. The sheep looked him up and down, not expecting him to be wearing the floral-pattern shirt and brown khakis Nick gave him. But then her eyes settled on the pistol in the holster on his side, and they lit up like fireworks. Rocket took his weapon out, set it to stun, turned it off, and took out the battery before giving it to the ewe.

She held it with both hooves, cradling it like it was an Infinity Stone. "Wow," She cooed, "This is so cool!" Holding it up, she aimed it at passersby on the other side of the street, and made _"Pitchoo! Pitchoo!"_ sounds as she fired at them.

"You know what's the best part about guns like this?" Rocket asked rhetorically, and Bellweather looked up at him. "It's the fact that they are universal equalizers." He explained proudly. "It's the fact that it allows creatures like you or me fight to back against giants like elephants, polar bears and tigers. To me, nothing guarantees peace and stability more than everyone having the ability to defend themselves."

"I couldn't agree more." Dawn said, inspecting the blaster closely. "You know, despite what we may put out on media and bumper stickers, Zootopia is actually a rather dangerous place. It's very easy for predators and big mammals to take advantage of smaller mammals and prey, and the ZPD don't always have the best equipment to maintain the streets."

"Is that so?"

"Oh yes. There's only so much you can do with tranquilizer guns and repellents, you know? It would really help the city if, I dunno, we were able to get our paws on stun guns like this. I dare say that Mayor Lionheart would write a pretty hefty check for the manufacturing rights to these, if a certain inventor and bounty hunter were to sell the blueprints. He might just make enough money to move into a penthouse at the Palms Hotel, if he were so inclined."

Rocket smiled. He couldn't believe his luck - here was someone in power who got it, who understood how awesome guns were. And she was willing to pay big money for his inventions, which was a double win for him. Finally, he could start making some real changes around here.

"Tell you what," He said, taking back his gun, "Why don't we get back together at city hall tomorrow, and have somethin' put down on paper to make it official?"

"Does that mean you'll do it?" She asked, her little sheep tail starting to wag.

"If the pay's good, and everything's patented under my name, sure. I'll do it."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Rocket!" Ms. Bellweather shook his paw graciously. They spent another minute working out the schedule between them, exchanged calling cards, and then she left, going about her merry way. Good timing too, as no sooner was she out of sight did Nick and Finnick return with a cart full of several bags of wool. When they finished up, Rocket switched seats, and Nick noticed the proud little smirk on his face.

"You seem awfully happy." The fox observed. "Did you get a pretty girl's number?"

"Better," Rocket bragged, "I got a pretty girl's number, _and_ I'm gonna make a lot 'o money, too." He showed them the card, and told them about his conversation with Bellweather.

"Whoa, dawg," Finnick said, "You tellin' me that you're gonna make guns fo' the cops?! Are you crazy?!"

"Don't worry, guys," He soothed their fears, "I'm only goin' to give them the basic stuff, and crap that'll be useful for everyone. But here's the thing you gotta remember about us inventors." He broke out a wicked smile, and lightly tapped his boots together. The little engines began whirring, and little orange lights came from the bottom of the boots as air slowly pushed outward. "You always keep the best stuff for yourself..."

* * *

"You sure you want to do this?" Rocket looked uneasily at his compatriots as Nick helped Finnick into the elephant costume. "This guy's a real asshole. He could just call the cops on you, and I don't plan on making a habit of breaking people out of jail."

"Don't worry, Stripes," Nick waved off the 'Coon's concern, "We've done this dozens of times. We know what we're doing, and if things don't turn out our way, we can just bail." The fox then smiled, and quipped, "Or maybe you can pull some strings with your ewefriend at Town Hall and get us a lawyer. Discrimination lawsuits go for a lotta money nowadays."

"I don't date politicians," Rocket grunted, "But I'm sure she owes me a good lawyer after she got the credit for my contract."

"How much did you make on that again, bro?" Finnick asked, before he stuck a pacifier in his mouth, and placing the trunk on his face.

"$50k for the first batch," He replied, scanning the street once again, "$10,000 for each batch after that. Already made enough to get all the parts for Groot's hologram field."

"I can't wait to see what kind of disguise you give our Happy Tree Friend." He zipped up the fennec's costume, and smirked. "If you want, I can teach you some tricks I've learned over the years. I'm sure I could teach you and Groot how to hustle, too."

Rocket chuckled. "I'll think about it, Red. In the meantime, I'll keep an eye out back here. If I spot any trouble, I'll pull you guys out."

"Don't do it too early, Rocket," The fox smirked as he opened the backdoor of the van. "There's nothing worse than a hustle that ends prematurely. Isn't that right, Finn'?"

Finnick glared at him, but said nothing as they both got out. Rocket watched them walk down the street for a bit, before he noticed movement in his peripheral vision. Looking over at the sidewalk, he spotted a small grayish blur move from car to car. Each car it went to, it left a small slip of paper on each windshield. Rocket brought out his Glass Tablet, and zoomed in on the blur.

 _HONK!_ "Hey, watch where you're going, FOX!"

The blur stopped moving as it turned to look at the truck and Nick. Rocket finally got a good look at the thing, and his jaw dropped as the first thing that went through his mind was, _Oh crap, it's Blackjack!_

 _"Hey Rocket, wanna see a dead body?!"_

The memory of his crazed pirate friend saying that was so intense that the raccoon actually looked over his shoulder to see if he was there. He shook his head, getting that stupid thought out of his mind. This wasn't Blackjack - for one thing, it wasn't that weird shade of blue his fur was, but rather gray with a white underbelly. For another, this rabbit (or hare, he still didn't know the difference) was shorter, too, only reaching his shoulder when not including the ears. The Zoogle quickly identified this purple-eyed, orange-vested meter maid as Judy Hopps, Zootopia's newest police officer and first bunny cop.

 _Oh, so that's who Clawhauser was talking about,_ He realized. The meter maid gave a suspicious squint, and he followed her line of sight to Nick, who had Finnick hidden by his side, already well into hustle mode. She kept her eyes on them as she crossed the street, and it was then that he noticed she was wearing a strap. It was too far away to get a good view of it, but Rocket immediately thought of some of the designs he had sold to Bellweather. It had been more than a week, and the first batch of blasters and stunners were already sent to ZPD.

Rocket started to panic. Zootopia had this dumb idea that bunnies were weak. There was this notion that rabbits were weak, dumb, easily broken and quick to frighten. Rocket disagreed with that - he believed the _opposite_ was true. He had spent his first couple years traveling and working alongside Blackjack, and he was everything that these mammals thought rabbits _weren't._ He was brash, headstrong, scary smart, tough, violent, and not a little bit insane. He knew how brutal and cruel a rabbit could be against an opponent, and the fact that this bunny had a badge to give her immunity from retaliation just made things even worse.

Without even thinking about it, he got out of the van, and followed the rabbit and foxes into the ice cream shop. The manager was chewing him out and telling him to leave, and Nick was acting all calm and collected. The rabbit was reaching down for her holster, and Rocket already had his paw on his weapon. He was damn certain he could draw faster than her, take the cop out, and then... well, he hadn't planned that far ahead, but-

"But sir," Nick told the manager, "I just want to get an Icepop for my son here. See, he's always wanted to be an elephant." Finnick trumpeted his little trunk. The rabbit placed her paws over her heart, and went "Awww," touched by the scene.

 _Wait, is she **buying** this? _Rocket couldn't believe it - this scam was not being bought by the elephants _at all,_ but this cop (this _rabbit_ cop, who he thought would know better) was taking it hook, line and sinker. Nick went through the rest of the script - being a single father, struggling with work and money, trying to do something nice for his son, all that schmaltzy stuff. None of the elephant customers or employees made any move to help them, but he could see in them the meter maid's body language that she was moved by the fox's sob story. Rocket couldn't help but smile, a mammal in on a prank of epic proportions.

"Hey, read the sign, fox." The manager pointed at the sign on the counter, as he recited, "'We reserve the right to withhold service to anyone.' Now beat it."

"Now hold on, sir." The officer - Ms. Hopps - finally spoke up, stepping forward. _Oh god she isn't,_ Rocket thought, his smile turning to a cheeky grin, holding back snickers, _Please tell me she's not gonna play the hero. Please tell me she's not that naive._

No, she was. She more or less called out the manager for breaking some kind of discriminatory law or another, and threatened to bring in the health inspector to close the place down for using their trunks to scoop ice cream (Rocket had thought it was pretty gross, but never mentioned it before because he thought it was a cultural thing) if they didn't serve the foxes. While she was talking, Nick spotted Rocket behind the cop, desperately trying not to laugh. There was a brief flash of surprise and nervousness as he motioned for him to back away. The raccoon did so, stepping outside, but still able to see and hear everything just fine.

The manager finally acquiesced to the bunny's demands, and asked for payment. Nick felt around his body, and feigned surprise and disappointment as he couldn't find his wallet. "Ah, I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached to me," He sighed, "I'm sorry, lil' buddy, looks like I can't get you one today." Finnick gave a sad trumpet sound, looking so sad and on the verge of tears. Judy saw this, her face grew firm as she made her decision.

"Oh frickin' hell," He snickered, "If she actually pays for them I'm gonna-"

She hopped up and slammed a fistful of dollars on the counter. "Keep the change." She declared, trying to sound so cool like it was a one liner.

The bio-augmented ex-outlaw burst out giggling, desperately trying to hold back the flood of laughs bubbling from within. Nick had completely and utterly fleeced her, playing her for a fool. He even got the cop to buy the Icepop, even though he had money on hand. How frickin' gullible was she? Before the three of them left the store with the giant-ass popsicle, Rocket hid behind a strategically placed car, peeking around the side to continue watching the show.

"You know, you're a really good dad," She complimented him as she handed the Icepop to Finn', "and for a fox, you're a real, _articulate_ fella."

"Thanks," He replied, completely straight-faced the entire time, "and it's really nice to meet a rabbit who isn't condescending." Rocket went into full-on silent belly laughs, as the sarcastic compliment completely went over her head.

"And you, little guy," She said, kneeling down to Finn's level, "Just keep believing in yourself, and I bet one day you'll grow up to be an elephant." She gave them both ZPD badge stickers, did a little _Toot-toot!_ with Finn, and went on her way.

"Oh my god," Rocket snickered as all three got in the van, turning the AC to full blast to keep their haul from melting, "That was the funniest thing I've ever seen! I wish I had a camera with me, Groot would love to see that."

"Thank you, Stripes," Nick called out from the back, speaking up over the drone of the fans, "I always knew I had a future in acting if the hustling business ever went south."

"I almost feel bad for her. She was just so completely played, so damn naive, I think even I could've hustled her."

"She's a sweetheart," Nick agreed, "just a real bad judge of character."

"Let's hope she's not smart enough to figure out what we did." Finnick warned, driving the car down the street. "I'm almost hoping we can do this again with you and Groot, just to see it from the other side."

Rocket didn't. If there was one thing Blackjack taught him about rabbits, it was that they were always full of surprises. And if that particular rabbit was resourceful enough to become a cop like Clawhauser said, he'd definitely need to keep an eye out for Officer Judy Hopps...

* * *

 **Author's Note: To answer some of the questions left in the reviews;**

 **Will there be more Marvel characters showing up? Yes; if you count flashbacks, there will be at least two. No one will be physically present, though.**

 **Will Rocket have a romance? Eh, it's too soon to tell. Hopps is possible, but unlikely - personally, messing around with an OTP just doesn't feel right (though "friendshipping" might happen... what is "Friendshipping", BTW? Please explain in the review/comment section). As for anyone else, all I can only really say is that if you look at Rocket's dating history in the comics, (specifically the "who" and "what") it should give you an idea of what I might go with. Possibly.**

 **Why does Nick know about the Giving Tree and Sly Cooper? Well, Nick's sense of humor seems reminiscent of Star-Lord, so references will abound. Animal versions of human media exist in Zootopia, so it's possible that Sly Cooper is a series of heist movies, like Ocean's Eleven. And the Giving Tree... is still the Giving Tree, but with mammals instead of humans.**


	4. Chapter 4

As luck would have it, Rocket and Judy would meet face to face the next day. He had left the foxes right after they had finished making their little popsicles, collecting his share of the money and heading back home to finish up Groot's cloak. The rest of the day and night had been spent looking into prospective cases, and writing the codes and algorithms for his buddy's hologram. It was gonna take a lot of downloading to make it look as real as possible, so much so that it wouldn't be done until the next night. Groot was still happy about the prospect of being able to go outside, even if it was disguised as a giraffe. He received a text later that night that Nick and Finn were followed by the cop after he left, but Nick dealt with it, and "took the bunny to school", whatever that meant.

The next morning, he received an update on his phone that some guy named Weaselton - the same dude that called him a thief in the police station - had a warrant out for his arrest, and a bounty of $500 for theft. _Hey, a job's a job, might as well keep at it until those gun royalty checks start coming in._ His latest string of robberies were primarily garden shops, florists and botanical supplies, so the raccoon parked himself across the street from Porky's Petunias _(ugh!)_ and waited. Well, not so much "parked" as "drank coffee and pretend to read a newspaper at some hipster cafe".

It was only 9:30 in the morning when he spotted a familiar meter maid driving around in an adorable golf-cart-turned police vehicle. He watched her park the cart between two bigger cars, and got to issuing parking tickets. However, there was something different about her. Little Judy Hopps didn't have that speed from yesterday, that pep in her step that made her hop from place to place. The happy smile she had last time was gone, replaced with a downtrodden frown. She just looked so sad and defeated, like part of her childhood got torched and tossed in a ditch.

Rocket couldn't help but feel sorry for her - which was weird, 'cause he never felt sorry for _anyone._

When the first mammals started complaining to her about getting tickets, he moved seats to be closer to the sidewalk, and waited for her to pass by. She crossed the street, and he whistled to get her attention. She spotted him quickly, the oversized raccoon wearing a polo shirt and cargo shorts with a backpack at his side - a clever disguise to look like some preppy middle-class schmuck.

"Rough day, huh?" He called out, waving her over.

"I'm fine, sir." She replied, though she didn't sound like it. "But I appreciate the concern. It's the first nice thing I've heard anyone say to me all day."

"Why, haven't paid for anyone else's food lately?"

The rabbit's eyes widened, before squinting suspiciously. "How do you-"

"Wilde hired me as backup. Guess he had a better handle on the situation than we thought. The name's Rocket, by the way."

Her ears perked up with recognition. "Rocket Raccoon? The guy who made all those new guns the department's getting?"

"The one an' only." He smiled and held his arms out. "And you must be Judy Hopps, ZPD's cute new bunny cop."

She sighed in exasperation, clearly having had to say this before. "Just so you know, a bunny can call another bunny _cute,_ but when someone else says it, it's a little-"

"Like someone calling me a _thief._ " Rocket finished for her. "Or calling a fox _sly,_ am I right?" Judy blinked, and he shrugged. "At least with you or Nick it's a compliment. A cute bunny is adorable, a sly fox is clever. Me? Apparently I got sticky fingers and quiet feet. It's not the worst thing anybody's called me, and if I had to zap everybody that ever gave me crap, there'd be a city full o' twitchy spazzes." This earned him a scoff and an eyeroll, but still he asked, "So, Long Ears, what's got you down?"

Judy lowered her eyes, and her ears drooped. "Nothing, really," She mumbled uncertainly, not really knowing why she wanted to tell this stranger anything, "I just had a... a talk with your boy Nick. He said some things that really got to me. Things I never really thought of before."

"What, like why do rodents have little toy cars?" He quipped, "I never got that either. Why don't they just take those little tube things everywhere, and turn their little road into a bike lane? I don't wanna pay for a car accident every time I take a wrong step." This got a chuckle out of the bunny, and she smiled. It was a nice laugh, and a nice smile.

"Look," He continued, "I don't know what Nick told you, and I don't know if it's anything like what people have said ta me. But a little bit of advice: don't let how others treat you get you down. If a predator or big mammal chooses to underestimate you, that just allows you to surprise them, and show off how awesome you really are. Yeah, life can always get worse - Hell, my life _has_ been worse - but when you're told you can't do somethin', you gotta stand back up, raise a middle finger, and shout, ' _Up yours, Life! You're not the boss of me, and I can do whatever I damn well please!'"_

That seemed to resonate with Judy, who squared her shoulders, and stood a little taller. "You're right," She agreed, that spark returning to her, "So what no one thought a bunny could be a police officer? Look at how far I've gone! Even I'm just a meter maid, I'm still going to be the best darn meter maid in Zootopia! If I could write 200 tickets yesterday, I bet I can make 250 today! Before 11:30!"

"That's the spirit!" He cheered, surprisingly happy his little motivational speech actually worked. "Hey, and for the record, including you, I've only met two rabbits in my whole life. Neither one of you are what I'd call stupid." _No, you're just naive and gullible,_ He thought, _and Blackjack is just crazy. How he survived fighting that Tuskiviiran with only a sponge is beyond me._

Off in the distance, a parking meter went PING! Judy's ears perked up, and she spotted it way down the street. "Duty calls." She chirped. "See you later, Mr. Rocket. It's been really nice talking with you."

"Ditto." He nodded over in the direction of the empty meter. "Now go out there and do your thing, Fluffybutt." Judy nodded in return, and went bounding off down the street.

 _Well, there's my good deed for the day,_ He thought, sensibly chuckling to himself as he returned to his stakeout. _Good thing I don't own a car. Having her ticket me would be kinda awkward._

Minutes pass. The sun rises higher as the rabbit and raccoon continue doing their jobs. More mammals sneer and complain at Judy, but this time she takes it much better, not letting those words get to her. Rocket continued to watch that particular flower shop, though now he had to order a Mocha Cappuccino from some snot-nosed opossum, and pulled out his phone, resorting to scrolling around the internet like every other loser in this city. _Ugh, the things I do for this job,_ he grouched, _Like actually having enough time to look up what those "SnapRat" and "Timbr" apps are. I think part of me died looking at that stupidity._

Eventually, he spotted his target. Duke Weaselton snuck into the flower shop at a moment when he hadn't been looking, but he spotted him just as he was carrying away a bag full of... flowers? Seeds? Money? Who robs a flower shop anyway? He unzipped his backpack, and pulled out his Rocket Blaster, loading a shot with an electrified net, and took aim, not even bothering to get out of his seat.

"Don't worry, I got him!" He heard Judy call out, quickly closing the distance between her and the crook, ripping off the meter maid outfit, and revealing a much more professional-looking SWAT getup.

Rocket saw this, and mentally kicked himself. "Goddamnit!" He swore, getting up and slinging the weapon on his back, "The one time I try to do somethin' nice, and it almost costs me a job!" He engaged his jet boots, and took off into the air.

Getting about fifty feet up, he followed the weasel and bunny as they went through the street. A cop car came by and stopped, and a rhino came out talking on his radio as the weasel slipped past them. "Officer Hopps in pursuit! WOO WOO!" Judy cried, clearly enjoying her first foot chase. "Don't worry boys," Rocket shouted as he zipped overhead, "I got this!" The rhino and his partner just stared at them - it's not everyday you see a mammal fly around like Astro Wolf.

He desperately tried to line up a shot with Weaselton, but the bastard just kept zipping around, dodging traffic and slipping between tight spots. Compounded by the fact that Rocket had never tried to shoot while flying through the air, he couldn't line up a shot without risking hitting pedestrians or oncoming cars. The thief rounded a corner, jumping onto the back of a young polar bear cub, and pushed off him as he went down the street. Judy made a hard cut as well, but didn't see how far the bear cub got launched into the street, practically landing in the middle of the lane with oncoming traffic. He looked a little ruffed up as he started getting up, but when he saw the first car coming at him, he froze like a deer in headlights ( _Was that a common thing? How many deer got hit by cars in Zootopia to make that a stereotype_?).

"Son of a _BITCH_!" He cursed, as he sped up and grabbed the cub by the collar, and pulled him back onto the sidewalk. The cub was a little heavier than he anticipated, and both of them took a tumble on the ground. Both of them got up rather quickly, and Rocket snapped, "Don't just stand there when a car's comin', you dummy! Dodge!"

"T-thank you, sir!" The polar bear cub looked down at himself, and mewled in shock and despair at his clothes, his school uniform torn to shreds by the asphalt. "My clothes! I can't go to school like this. Dad's gonna kill me!"

The bounty hunter only half-heard this, looking to see how far his target had ran. Both the weasel and rabbit were halfway down the block, heading to this walled-off miniature of the city called "Little Rodentia". The subconscious part of his mind - the part that had been re-engineered to process tactical situations within milliseconds - realized that his current disguise was only going to slow him down as he flew, increasing the risk of his escape. Quickly he took the polo shirt and shorts off his red jumpsuit, absent-mindedly tossed it at the cub, and took to the sky once again. "Thank you!" The cub called out, waving at the 'Coon even as he was promptly forgotten.

Rocket increased the power to his jetboots, speeding up enough to tackled Weaselton midair as he jumped over the wall. Both of them went tumbling across the ground, nearly crushing several rodents and their cars. Duke kicked Rocket off, slamming into the front of a tiny apartment building. He got up, rolled his shoulders, and sneered, "You know, for a hardened criminal, you hit like a chump."

The weasel blinked as he recognized him, and immediately scurried over to his bag. "Hey buddy," He hissed, "I stole this haul fair and square. Get your own."

"I'm not here for the bag, dumbass," He growled, pulling out his blaster and aiming it at the crook, "I'm here for _you."_

It was then that Judy hopped the wall as well. She looked surprised to see the raccoon she spoke to an hour ago had caught up, changed clothes, and leveling a giant gun at her perp. They also both became aware of all the dozens of tiny mice and cars zipping around everywhere in a panic, forcing them to tiptoe around to not crush anyone. Duke took this opportunity to grab the gun, and try to wrench it out of the 'Coon's hands.

"Hey, let go asshole," The bounty hunter barked, "This is _my_ gun!" When Duke couldn't take the weapon away, he started angling at Judy. Hopps quickly rushed in, and she tried to take it from both of them. In the midst of their struggling, fingers slipped, a dial turned, and a trigger got pulled.

 _ **THWOOM!**_

A ball of plasma shot up into the air, easily climbing over a hundred feet as everyone within Little Rodentia looked up. Duke took this moment to escape, pushing both of his pursuers away, and pushing down a row of apartment buildings as he jumped onto a passing mini-train.

"I got it, I got it!" Rocket shouted, raising his gun and eyeballing the shot. When he aligned it just right, he fired, hitting the projectile with another ball of plasma, causing them to erupt in a booming fireworks display. Meanwhile, Judy went to the last apartment building, and used all that lower body strength to push them back into position (while unknowingly giving one lucky rat a full-window view of bunny butt). Realizing their target was getting away, both then quickly rushed off in pursuit - Judy by foot, Rocket by air.

Rocket caught up first, landing right in front of the weasel. "You know," He sneered, "It's kind of funny that in the past two months I've been here, you've gone and committed, what, twenty acts of robbery, and yet _I'm_ the thief."

"Yeah, so?" The thief jeered back, "You're a 'Coon. You're sneaky kleptomaniacs! You're worse than foxes - at least they're brave enough to look you in the eye when they take stuff!"

"Sounds like someone's projecting," Rocket retorted, "And as for taking stuff, the only thing I'm taking is you to the precinct, so I can get my money. And I'll be sure to look you in the eye the entire-"

WHUMP!

Rocket slammed into a veritable wall of those stupid, brightly colored tubes the rats travel in, getting stuck in the pipes as Duke snuck through the openings. He growled out his pain and frustration as he used the boots to brute-force his way out of the pipes, not caring as he broke three or four pipelines on his exit. _Ah, **that's** why they don't have pipes runnin' everywhere._ Zooming up overhead, he spotted Weaselton duck and weave through the pipes, only for Judy to somehow still be way down the line, and tackle him into another street. Duke again got up first, and spotted a large fake donut on top of a mini bakery.

"How about a donut, copper!" He shouted, ripping it off the roof and tossing it at her. Judy dodged, but then sprinted after it as it went barreling down the street. She barely caught in time to avoid crushing a shrew in a silly wig, whose survival instincts were limited to "scream and cower in fear".

"I love your hair." She said, trying to sound casual - _yeah, I do this all the time._

"I live for the simple things in life," Rocket mused, resetting his gun as he took aim from above, "Like how much _this_ is gonna hurt."

 _PING-PING! BZZZZZT!_

Two pellets hit the weasel right in the middle of his back, causing him to yelp and seize up as he fell on the ground. He wiggled and flopped on the ground like a fish, electricity arcing through his body in visually pleasing ways.

"Yeah," He murmured as he landed a few feet away from him, grabbing a plastic cinch-band (the ones that need a knife to cut through once put on), "Writhe, ya little shit. Makin' me zip around town like a goddamn delivery boy."

Duke tried to get up, and Rocket readied to fire another shot for shits and giggles, when Hopps made her presence known by slamming the fake donut on him, trapping his limbs within the hole. When she brought out her own handcuffs and placed them on the weasel's legs, Rocket demanded, "Hey, whoa, what're you doing? He's _my_ catch!"

Judy looked at him, and said defensively, "I'm arresting him, Mr. Rocket. I'm a cop, it's my job."

"No," He retorted, "You're a _meter maid._ I'm a _bounty hunter._ My job is to catch this clown, and yours is to give him a ticket for leaving his car out too long."

Judy gasped, and gave him that "how dare you" look people get when they're all offended - something Rocket was learning he was really good at. "What happened to all that talk about not letting others tell me what I can or can't do?"

"That was before you decided to go after my target. He's worth a month's rent, I'm not just going to let him go just so you can build your self-esteem!"

"He's committed theft, running from police, resisting arrest, attempted assault with a deadly weapon-" Rocket realized that him wrestling for his gun technically counted as attempted assault, "-and attempted mammalslaughter, when he nearly crushed that poor shrew with this donut."

"You don't have the authority to make those charges." He countered, "Chief Butthole won't be too happy that his two-day old rookiee left her designated zone to steal a bounty."

"I was the one who spotted him first," She insisted, "I was the one who started this chase. You were interfering in a police pursuit - that's grounds for losing your license!"

"I was the one staking him out all morning," He snapped, "I was the one who caught him. _You_ were the one messing with _my_ job, and _you_ went and left your zone. _That's_ dereliction of duty, and _that's_ grounds for losing your badge!"

"You both could just let me go, and we could pretend this didn't-"

 _PING! BZZZZT!_

Weaselton shut his mouth after receiving 10'000 volts to his neck. The rabbit and raccoon stared each other down, not giving the other an inch. The standoff held for nearly a minute, as neither one moved, and both were drawing a crowd of mice spectators.

"I can't let you leave with him," Judy said finally, a hint of desperation and finality in her voice, "I _need_ this. I have to prove that I can do this."

Rocket groaned - now his good deed turned this into an ego trip. Normally, he'd just tell the cop to "fuck off and know your role", but for the life of him he couldn't bring himself to do it now. It was really vexing - Why should he care about this bunny's feelings? Is it because she's cute - Eh, she's attractive, but not enough to render him stupid. Is it because she's a familiar race - Not really; just because she was technically the same species as an old friend didn't mean he owed her anything. Perhaps it was because he felt sorry for her - she was obviously idealistic and naive, desperate to seek any kind of validation for her career path, willing to do anything to prove she has what it takes to make it with the big boys. It was more out of pity than anything else that made Rocket do what he did next.

"Look," He said begrudgingly, "I don't care who gets the credit for bringing in this guy. I just want the money. What if we... brought him in together? Would that make you happy?"

Judy squinted at him suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"Simple. We bring this guy in. We'll tell them how you helped me catch him-"

"You mean how _you_ helped _me_ catch him." She corrected.

"Whatever you have to tell yourself, babe. We go there, we tell them we worked together to catch him - that's not even lying. You get the credit for the catch on your record, and I get the 500 bucks. It's a win-win for the both of us. Whatcha say?"

Judy thought it over, tapping her foot rapidly. She didn't like it - nope, she didn't like it one bit, having to settle with sharing an arrest with a bounty hunter. But he was right, she _was_ skirting the edges of the law, and she probably would be in a little bit of trouble because he couldn't let this thief go. His offer was a good one, and if he was willing, perhaps he could corroborate her report to justify her actions. And at least he backed away from telling her to piss off and leave.

She crossed her arms and sighed. "Fine," She relented, "We'll do things your way. But if this is your attempt to hustle me-"

"Bunny please," He scoffed, "I'm not that kind of mammal. When I make a deal with someone, I keep up my end..."


	5. Chapter 5

_Whump-bump-bump!_ The plaster doughnut - with the surprise weasel filling - bounced it's way into Precinct 1. He rolled all the way to the front desk, where Clawhauser was showing off his silly Gazelle app to a wolf who was wishing the other officers would take him to a cell already. It came to a stop and fell to its side, Duke Weaselton looking particularly green from all the spinning he had to go through. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at the weasel, wondering what the hell happened to him.

"We got him!" Judy announced, proudly bounding into the station, "We got the Flower Bandit! Judy Hopps and Rocket Raccoon, Zootopia's new crimefighting duo!"

"Long Ears, what did I say?" Rocket complained. " _You're_ supposed to be the professional one, and _I_ was gonna be the one who gloated!"

"Sorry, I'm just excited. It's my first arrest, how cool is that?! Weren't you excited the first time you caught a bad guy?"

"I was more nervous than excited." he told her, and then murmured, "Mostly because there were bodies _everywhere."_

"What was that?"

"Nothin'. Come 'ere, I promised a friend of mine I'd send a picture of each guy I catch, and I think he'd want to see you." He handed his phone over to Clawhauser, and motioned for Judy to join him on the other side of the weasel. Before she got to them, Rocket whispered to Duke, "You frickin' bite one of us while we take this picture, I break yer jaw in front of everyone." Duke wisely remained still, as the bunny and raccoon posed on either side of him, and the cheetah snapped a photo of them with their catch. Rocket took the phone back and sent the image to Groot while Hopps explained the deal they had made. Groot had asked for a cellphone from Finnick so he could keep tabs on everyone even though he was stuck at the warehouse, and surprisingly the tree-man was becoming rather savvy with the little device. The only downside was that he learned texting from watching TV, meaning that he texted like a child - with gratuitous use of abbreviations and emojis.

"Officer Hopps!" Bogo shouted through the intercom, getting everyone's attention. "In my office! Now!"

"Serious question, guys," Rocket asked, hopping onto the counter and helping himself to a doughnut, "Has there ever been a time when he didn't sound like he was pissed off about somethin'?"

"Oh, that's just the face he has on at work." Benjamin explained, "He does that to keep everyone in line. He's really a sweetheart once you get to know him." _Yeah, and I'm a Shi'ar cookie salesman._ The raccoon thought. Judy looked at both of them nervously, before heading off to the Chief's office. Rocket sent the image to Groot, and while Clawhauser typed away to give Hopps the commendation and him the cash, he felt compelled to ask, "Hey Ben, why are you fat for a cheetah?"

Clawhauser - having gotten used to the bounty hunter's abrasive nature and insults from criminals all the time - merely smiled at the screen, and retorted, "Dunno, why are you tall for a raccoon?"

Rocket, without missing a beat, answered, "Growth spurt." _And cybernetic and genetic augmentations._

"Slow metabolism." Clawhauser replied, tapping his tummy. "My family was poor when I was a kid, and we didn't always have enough to eat. I have a sweet tooth, and now I have the money to eat whenever I want. I've tried to watch what I eat, dieting and whatnot, but these things are just too good to resist."

"That sucks." He gestured to the cheetah's phone, still showing Gazelle dancing with the muscular tiger with Ben's face crudely pasted over it. "How do you ever plan on dancing with your favorite celebrity if walking ten feet exhausts you?"

"Hey, I can still bust a move! You should've seen me at the last policeman's ball! I could dance just as fine as any one of those tigers!"

"Mmhmm, and I'm sure Gazelle would _love_ to dance with someone who has bigger boobs and butt than she does. You know what..." He leaned over and grabbed the box of donuts off the counter next to him. "I think you've had enough donuts today!"

"Hey!" Clawhauser exclaimed, reaching to grab the box. "Give that back! I'm not done eating!"

But Rocket was too quick for him, and took it out of his reach. "No way, buddy." he told him. "You're never going to be a world-class dancer if you eat donuts and cereal all damn day. Besides, you still have one under your cheek." _And these things are frickin' Space Crack. No wonder he's such a fat ass._

As Clawhauser searched his body and did indeed find one last glazed doughnut, Rocket took the box and jumped off the counter, and went off to sit in a nearby vacant seat. "Let me know when the money comes in." He called out, taking a seat and snacking on the remaining doughnuts as he received a text from Groot.

 _ **GrootyRoot:** Who dat bunny? lol ;)_

 ** _BigRR:_** _That was Judy. The one we tricked yesterday._

 ** _GrootyRoot:_** _N now u2 partners? :o ROFLMAO!_

 ** _BigRR:_** _No doofus. She helped me get the target. She got credit. I got money. Win-win._

 ** _GrootyRoot:_** _Aww, dat nice tho! xoxo YOLO!_

 ** _BigRR:_** _Groot, stop adding emojis and txt talk to every text. Yur not a teenage girl, u dont kno wat dose words n signs mean._

 ** _GrootyRoot:_** _:'( sry_

"Excuse me, sir, can I please talk with someone?"

Rocket looked up at the front desk, and his heart stopped. For a moment, he saw the ghostly image of the one person he had ever really loved, the one being in all the galaxy who could bring the not-asshole part of him out with no trouble whatsoever. _My god, that's Lylla._

Indeed, the resemblance between otters was uncanny. Yes, she had whiter fur signifying greater age, and Lylla was eye-level with him while this otter was even shorter than Judy. But still, she looked like her, sounded like her, and held herself like her as well. It was scary how much this tiny little thing reminded him of his long lost love.

As he watched and listened from a distance, Clawhauser looked down at the little otter and sighed. "Mrs. Otterton," he began, "We've been doing everything we can, but you've got to let our officers do their work."

"But it's been two weeks," She pointed out, "and I haven't heard or gotten any updates from any of your officers. My children are worried sick, and I don't know if I can tell them that my Emmett is being searched for, or if he's been forgotten!"

It took a second or two for Rocket to realize he had gotten up and started walking to the desk and distraught otter. _Dude, what are you doing?_ That inner voice of greed and caution demanded as he got closer, and the otter brought out a picture of her and her family. The otter didn't notice his approach as she said, "Just let me show them a picture of my family. Let them see the children they're ignoring, and the mammal that I've been searching for!"

 _Nerd!_ He couldn't get over the stupid sweater and the dorky glasses he wore. It boggled his mind that this female would be attracted to that old fart, let alone reproduce with him. She could do so much better than him, easy. At least the children looked... cute, maybe?

"Please," She begged, "Let me speak with someone who can help me."

He was about to speak up, when the inner voice spoke up again. _You don't plan on actually **helping** her, are you? Why? You don't know her. You don't owe her anything. If she's just goin' to a police station rather than a PI, then she's clearly not goin' to pay you enough to make it worth your time. And on top of that, not only does she look like an older, mini-version of your girlfriend, but she's married to a loser with loser kids. You have no reason to help her, just walk away._

 _You **do** have a reason, Dude. _ A different voice - one he hadn't heard in a long, long time. A softer voice, from a point in his life where everything didn't come off as a dozen shades of crap, and it wasn't so hard to _give a shit_ about something other than himself. _Just ask yourself: "What would Lylla say? What would she do?"_

Rocket's mind went back, remembering the last time he saw his first and only love...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Are you sure you can't stay with us a little longer?" Rocket asked, doing his best not to sound like he was begging.

"Aww Rocket, I was going to ask if you could come with me." Lylla read him like an open book, as she always had. "I'm sure Dyvyne would be ok with hiring additional security."

He sighed, "We both know I can't do that. I promised Blackjack I'd help him settle his score with the Blue Suns. He was there for us in some really bad times, and I don't wanna have that kind of debt hangin' over my head."

A chill wind blew through the spaceport of Gainel, under the three moons of Fiego. It had been three years since Rocket, Blackjack and Lylla had escaped the labs where they were created, and they had been doing rather well for themselves. The rabbit and raccoon were making tons of money doing hits, raids and other odd jobs, while the otter managed them and got them contacts and contracts. They traveled the galaxy, made loads of money, had some good times along the way. It was the closest thing he had ever been to being part of a family.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end. Lylla had met Lord Dyvyne, a rather rich and famous "toy maker" - a clever euphemism for weapons manufacturer. The guy, oddly enough, seemed more interested in her than them: while the boys were great fighters and hunters, she had a knack for negotiating, finding patterns in galactic trade, being a real moneymaker in the civilized sense of the word. Lylla, while a fair combatant in her own right, always wanted to make something more of herself, to break away from their original "purpose" as fighters (and in her case, "entertainers"). He had offered her a position as the manager of a new factory opening up on Sigma Prime, and she jumped on it.

Blackjack didn't mind - he was already planning on going his own way soon enough, making his own band of outlaws without them. Rocket didn't want her to go, but he wasn't going to stop her. This was her chance to leave the criminal life behind, and he cared for her too much to keep her down in the underworld with him.

"I understand," She demurred, pulling her coat tighter against her thin body, "But... If this is the last time we see each other-"

"Hey, don't think like dat," He rebuffed her, pulling her closer as the wind picked up, "I'll come see you whenever I'm in this neck of of the galaxy."

"But if we don't," she continued, staring into his eyes, "I want you to promise me something." She placed her paws on his chest, right above his heart. "Stay good for me, Rocket. Don't just be the killer they wanted you to be."

Rocket couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, I think that ship has flown already, babe," He said, placing his hands over hers, "We can't all be awesome business ladies like you."

"It's never too late to change." She insisted. "Last night, I had a dream. I saw a city on top of a hill. The place was filled with creatures like us - animals that walked on two legs, wore clothes, could speak like us. You and I were there, and no one looked at us funny, or gave us a hard time. We owned a little shop, and had a little house, and we were happy together."

"That does sound nice," He observed, "but I don't think there's enough mad scientists and science experiments in the galaxy to make us fit in."

"Maybe, maybe not. But I _do_ believe that there is a place for creatures like us. A place where we can belong, where we're not outcasts. Somewhere where you don't have to keep up a cynical front, and where we can both be happy. I want you to promise me that you won't completely give in to the violence and hate that Judson wanted us for, that Blackjack is falling to. I want you to promise me that you will still keep a part of yourself good, so that when I find that place for us, I can still have part of the Rocket I know and love with me. Can you do that for me, baby?"

Rocket sighed. He didn't know if he could do that - hell, he didn't know if Judson left enough wiggle room in his mind to even allow him to not answer every problem with violence. But whenever he looked into her eyes - those purple eyes that poured into him like a waterfall - he couldn't help but at least try for her sake. She was the first good thing to happen in his life, and she deserved that much.

"Okay, Lylla," He said, bringing up her paw and kissing it, "For you, I promise." She smiled and hugged him, nuzzling the side of his neck. He returned in kind, sharing the warmth in the cool alien night. "Just remember, when you find that perfect place for us, there better be a bar. The first round's on me."

She laughed. "I love you, you fluffy pirate."

He smiled. "I love you too..."

xxxxxxxxxxx

Rocket blinked, and looked at the lady otter before him. Her eyes were olive-green, not purple. She was probably older than Lylla, more down to earth. The type who only asked for help when every other avenue had been used up, but wasn't a charity case to be pitied. She was married with kids, living a humdrum life in a city where crime was minimal and adventure was even less so. By all accounts, Rocket had no reason to help her, and should've just walked away from the whole scene.

But then part of him makes a realization. This place, Zootopia; this was what Lylla had in mind when he made her that promise. She hadn't known about this place, but it was so close to her vision that it might as well be one in the same. This was the place she meant when she said he no longer had to be a dick. Here, it was finally possible to truly reinvent himself: He was still a fighter, but now he no longer needed to be just a weapon. Now he could do something like help a random stranger, not because he'd receive treasure beyond his wildest dreams, but because, as Lylla would say, "It's the right thing to do."

Would it be easy for him? _Hell no!_ This went against everything he had been taught and programmed from day one. Even as he cleared his throat to get their attention, that small part of his mind screamed about how much of a fool he was. He was being an idiot, leaving himself exposed - going out doing nice things and being a goody two-shoes would make things harder on himself. But since when has anything in life worth doing ever been easy? Changing any aspect of yourself is a pain in the ass, but sometimes doing so is worth it, if only to prove to yourself or others that you can.

Lylla believed he could do it. His time with Quill and Gamora and Drax gave him a taste (and proved you could get rewards for it, too). Why not try the "hero" path in his own little style?

* * *

"...Life isn't some whimsical fairy tale where you sing a little song and your insipid dreams come true!" They heard the buffalo shout from inside his office. "You _earn_ your respect and your job. You can't just expect to bust open the door and get everything you want!"

Taking that as their cue, Rocket kicked the door open, and shouted, "Who's horns do I have to shine to get some assistance here?!"

The buffalo and bunny looked over as the raccoon entered, quickly followed by the rather flustered Mrs. Otterton, and Clawhauser gasping for air as he finally caught up.

"Chief!" The cheetah panted, "I tried-ugh!-I tried to catch them! Ugh! They're too fast!"

"Told you!" Rocket barked smugly, "We weren't even goin' that fast! This is why you need protein bars and some dance lessons. Don't go nowhere - oh, and catch!" Remembering he was in an office, he tossed his blaster gun to Clawhauser. As the cheetah caught it, the raccoon closed the door.

"Mr. Raccoon," Bogo demanded as forcefully polite as he could reigning in his emotions while the civilian was still present, "You better have a good reason for barging in like this, into _my_ office."

"I'm glad you asked, Chief Bozo." He placed a paw on Emma's shoulder, speaking nonchalant in spite of everyone's stares. "While I was waiting for my paycheck, and you were likely telling Long Ears to 'Know Your Role and Get In Line', I met this lovely lady here. Mrs. Emma Otterton tells me that her husband has been missing for over two weeks, and yet no one has told her anything about how the case's been goin'."

Bogo's gaze softened as he looked at the little otter. "Ma'am," He started, "We're doing everything we can-"

"Oh, I'm sure you are." Rocket pointed at the map of the city on the wall, with pictures of Emmett and thirteen other mammals on it. "Fourteen missing mammal cases in the same month, all predators, all over the city. Must be serious, and you guys must be _really_ busy. Perhaps, I dunno, busy enough to forget about updating a distressed loved one from being kept in the loop."

"Mr. Raccoon-"

"Hold on there, Big Boy," He cut him off, "I'm getting to my point." He couldn't help but smirk, though, as the police chief was looking increasingly annoyed, and the bunny kept switching her gaze between both of them. "Now, I may be a cold-blooded bounty hunter, but I _do_ have a conscience. It's not much of one, but it's there. Mrs. Otterton here is in need of some help, and the police weren't doing enough, so I offered my services. We negotiated a bit, found a fair price, and gave Spotty back there a little exercise getting up here. I will take up the Emmett Otterton case, so you can focus on what you usually do, like beating up catnip dealers, or abusing steroids."

The two ladies looked at him uneasily as Bogo fumed, and Rocket's smirk grew bigger and bigger. "I can't just give you the case files," He glared at the overgrown raccoon, "You're not a cop."

"Fine," He retorted, "Then get the guy assigned to it and have and get him to tag along. You _do_ have someone working it, don't you?" All eyes turned back to the chief, who looked rather uncertain. "We, uh-"

"I'll do it," Judy stepped up, looking rather bold, "I'll help you find Mr. Otterton!" The males looked at her with genuine surprise, but Emma jumped up and hugged the bunny. "Thank you," she said, "Thank you for bringing my husband back." Judy awkwardly returned the hug, and looked over at Rocket. He shrugged, giving her a look of curious amusement, and mild approval.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Otterton," Bogo interrupted, "Would you mind leaving the room for a moment-"

"Knock knock knock," Came a rather cheery voice from the other side of the door. It opened, revealing the perky face of everyone's mutual friend/associate, Dawn Bellweather. "What's this? Zootopia's first bunny officer and ZPD's new weapons supplier? I was just looking for you two."

"Perfect timing." Rocket declared, stepping in front of Bogo and sidelining him from the conversation. "Have you got the schematics for my drone system?"

"Yes we did." The sheep brought out a folder, containing diagrams and images of drones with various modifications. "I was hoping to have you stop by city hall sometime this week, so we could discuss installing emergency response modules inside. It'd be really useful having the drones that carry rodents or cameras all over the city also double as EMTs in times of crisis."

"I hear yuh," Rocket agreed, "but I'm gonna be a little busy the next couple days. Chief Bogo has just assigned Officer Hopps here to assist me in a missing mammal case." He placed a paw on the bunny's shoulder, and pulled her a little closer. Judy was a little surprised by this, but she was catching on to what Rocket was trying to do.

"Oh, that's spectacular news!" She cheered, putting the folder away and pulling out her phone. "The mayor's Mammal Inclusion Initiative is _really_ starting to pay off. Let me tell Lionheart about it, it'll make his day!"

"No no, Ms. Bellweather," Bogo pleaded, stepping over to the Deputy Mayor, "You don't need to do that!"

"...Aaand I've sent it, and it's done." She announced, and reached out to shake both their paws. "Good luck out there, guys. Us little guys are rooting for you!"

"Don't you worry, Bells," Rocket assured her, "In forty-eight hours, we'll have our guy, you'll have your drones, and everybody in this city will know our names."

"Ooh, confident. I like that."

"Excuse me ladies," Bogo said, using the most forced smile Rocket had ever seen, "Would you mind leaving the office so I could speak with Mr. Raccoon and Officer Hopps about... the _case..._ in private, please?"

The sheep and otter left the office. Bogo closed the door, and when he looked back at the bunny and raccoon, he gave them such a frustrated and angry glare that Judy's ears dropped, and she took a cautious step back. Rocket, however, stood his ground, and held that gaze.

"You think you can just inject yourself into police business?" He growled. "You think you can get away with making me look weak?"

"I jus' did." Rocket stated. "It's called 'hustling', dude. It's one of my many skills."

"You want to see hustling?" The Chief challenged him, a menacing grin growing on his muzzle. "Alright then. You and Hopps? You have forty-eight hours to find Mr. Otterton, BUT-!" The last word was a shout, cutting off Judy's premature cheer. "Officer Hopps, if you fail, you must resign."

"What? Why?" Judy asked.

"Insubordination!" He explained. "If you think you can just assign yourself to any case you want - _especially_ in front of civilians and myself! - then you clearly learned nothing from Academy. As for you, _Rocket-"_

"You've got nothin' on me, _Ox."_ Rocket told him arrogantly. "I'm a civvie with no rap-sheet, I'm friends with your boss, and I'm supplying you and your boys with new equipment. You can't touch me."

Judy cringed, and Bogo's eyes bulged in fury. Just as bunnies had their no-no words, other animals had some, too. For a buffalo, being called an "ox" - a bull without testicles - fell somewhere along the lines of being called a "bitch" and a "faggot" simultaneously, and under most circumstances would result in a massive fight. Bogo took a breath. Two. Three. On the fourth breath, he regained most of his composure, stood straight up, but kept the smile. "As for you, Mr. Rocket Raccoon, if you fail, you will either surrender your bounty hunting license, or be arrested."

Rocket scoffed. "On what grounds?"

"Using excessive force on criminals," Bogo started saying, "Using experimental technology on non-consenting mammals. Entering a police station with a loaded weapon. Interfering with a police investigation. Breaking and entering into a private office!"

"It wasn't locked, but-"

Bogo slammed a hooved fist into the wall, actually putting a sizable crater into the drywall. "Ok-ok, it's a deal!" Judy stammered, hoping to calm her boss down. "We'll find Otterton in 48 hours or I'll quit!"

Rocket kept his gaze with Bogo, wiggling his whiskers as he considered the pros and cons. Losing his right to go out and shoot people for money would be a downer, no doubt about it. Maybe even a little worse than being proven wrong by this musclebound asshat. But then again, this would make things interesting, wouldn't it? A little bit of a challenge, for an otherwise mundane missing mammals case, give it a little bit of an edge. And worse comes to worse, and he actually fails (which he won't; it's not even within the realm of possibility in his mind), he's still set to become one of the richest mammals in all of Zootopia. Have one last hunt under the belt before riding off into the sunset with a pina colada and a couple hookers. Sounds as good a way to end a career as any, right?

"Bah, what the hell?" He sighed. "I accept your challenge. Might as well put a time limit to keep things interesting."

"Splendid." Bogo replied evenly, opening the door for them. "Clawhauser will hand you the case files downstairs."

The two of them got out of his office, but Rocket stopped and turned back to the Chief. "Just so you know," He warned, giving him a cocky little smirk that wouldn't be out of place on a certain fox, "No matter how this goes down, this is jus' the beginning between us. You're gonna see a lot o' this mug around here, and I'm jus' gonna love-love- _love_ pushing your buttons every, single, day." He winked and clicked his teeth, and got out of the way just before the door slammed. He couldn't help but smile at the sound of a bellowing buffalo, and the crash of a desk being flipped.

"Sweet cheese and crackers, did you _have_ to antagonize him like that?" Judy groaned. "He could've crushed you like a bug!"

"Hell yeah it was!" He laughed. "Putting aside how funny it was trollin' him like dat, I've been too nice lately. Gotta 'balance my chakras' or 'adjust my karma', or whatever New Age mumbo-jumbo the kids go on about."

"Oh, _that_ makes sense!" She remarked sarcastically, "You help me out twice today, and each time you nearly cost me my job? Is that how this works?"

"Yeah, pretty much." He answered, straight-faced and all. "But I wouldn't worry too much, Fluffybutt, 'cause we're gonna find Emmett Otterton, we're gonna do it in less than two days, and we're gonna rub our success in his face."

"...Orrr we can just take pride in a job well done, and bringing a family back together, _without_ further aggravating my boss."

"But where's the fun in that?"

* * *

 **Right, so now Rocket and Judy are on the case, and the plot finally begins.**

 **A couple of notes here. First off, I've noticed some reviews and critiques about how Rocket has been "too nice" - that he's been getting along with everyone too well. A fair point; I'm not used to writing asshole characters who're also not evil. This was my first attempt at making him come across as more of a dickhead, and it was actually a lot of fun. There was just something beautiful in the way Rocket was trolling Bogo, getting him more and more angry knowing he couldn't do anything to him. Hopefully, I was able to better describe Rocket's actual character - someone who'll do the right thing with a little nudge, but still comes off as a prick to people he doesn't like (Bogo) and people he does (eating Clawhauser's donuts in front of him to make him go on a diet).**

 **Second, on Rocket and Lylla's backstory. Since I'm using the MCU version, I have some leeway in what I can do since GotG never went into detail about it. In the comics, Lord Dyvyne and Judson Jakes were wealthy businessmen trying to take Lylla's hand in marriage, in order to get her father's money and technology. Here, the former is her new employer, while the later is the scientist who made them. Hey, if the MCU can take some liberties with Baron Zemo and the Mandarin, so can I! As for Lylla, while Rocket and Blackjack were made to be weapons and soldiers, she was designed... more to be a "comfort girl" and secretary. She can fight and defend herself, but most of her enhancements were mental, making her extremely good with money on all levels, and knowing how people think and feel with only a quick glance. For her appearence, I couldn't find a picture of her that I really liked, so my mental image is of a larger version of Emma Otterton with Judy's eyes. Make of that as you will.**

 **Finally, some of you may be concerned that this story is being "railroaded" - that it's following the exact same path as the movie. Well, it is, and it isn't. See, in about two or so chapters (an obligatory comedy chapter and one where bad decisions catch up with them), I'm going to introduce something that'll shake up what would've been the second half of the movie. Species stereotypes tossed out a window. Old friends and allies turned into bitter and feared foes. The entire predator-prey dynamic flipped on it's head, and at the center of it are our titular raccoon, bunny, fox and sheep. All I can say, without giving out any details, is replace the movie's play at racial tension and anger in the 80s and 90s, with the general paranoia of the post-9/11 world.**

 **Anyways, this will get updated again within the month. For those reading it when it comes out, Happy Fourth of July! For those reading it afterwards, hope the future is less shitty!**

 **McKnight out.**


	6. Chapter 6

"You've got to be frickin' kidding me. That's it?" The raccoon stared in disbelief at the Otterton file - all page and a half of it. "I could get more off a quick Zoogle search for Odin's sake!"

Judy matched his sentiment by slapping a paw to her face. The folder contained Emmett's personal information (which would've been easily accessible via Muzzlebook) and the last picture of him taken on CCTV, on some street corner in Savannah Central. It was by far the smallest case file she had ever seen, and a horrible start for what may be the most important case of her career.

"Hang on," She murmured, "we can still do this. Rocket, do a quick search for him on social media, see who he's connected to. Clawhauser, paw me that water bottle." The raccoon already had his phone out and looked up Emmett, while the overweight cheetah gave her the bottle. She placed the bottle at an angle above the picture, using the refraction to magnify the image.

"'Kay," He began, "The guy's a florist, rather popular too. He's done a lot of jobs all across town, for all kinds of mammals. Been in business for twenty years, graduated from Zootopia University back in '75... Over three thousand Muzzlebook friends, goddamn. The mammal's popular for a nerd."

Judy gave a little gasp, as she spotted something in Otterton's hand. "Pawpsicle," She muttered, and looked over the rest of the picture. "Ha!" She declared, "We've got a lead!"

"Really? Who?" She gestured for him to come look, and switching his phone the magnifying glass app, he was pointed to one corner of the picture, where a fluffy red-white tail and green shirt was walking offscreen. The same shirt he had seen Nick wear every single time they were together.

"That's Nick Wilde alright." He stated. Judy crossed her arms and scowled at him, but Rocket pointed at the time stamp. "I wasn't working with him that day," He explained, "I was working on a job. But I know where he's goin' to be today..."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

It was 1:55 in the afternoon by the time they reached the edge of Savannah Central, crammed in Judy's little maid-mobile. It was a miracle they got there as fast as they did, considering the vehicle didn't get faster than a brisk running speed. Nick and Finnick were heading the opposite direction into the SC, planning on opening a stand for pawpsicles and Rocket's cheap holographic projectors (nothing too fancy, just a three-dimensional image of a picture or ten second video file).

"Hey Nick!" He waved and pointed at the red fox, who was pushing Finnick in a stroller alongside a bag of the projectors. "Gotta minute?"

"Hey there, Stripes." The fox looked over at him, and he smiled when he saw his driver. "And if it isn't little miss meter maid," he said in that smugly sarcastic tone of his. "Taking up a taxi service, eh? Guess a policewoman's salary wasn't cutting it for you?"

"Actually, we were hoping you could spare us a few minutes of your time." Judy cut in front of the two foxes, parking right there on the sidewalk.

"Not right now, sorry," Nick faux-apologized, trying to get around them, "I've got a busy schedule today, and I can't afford to play 'Guess who?' with an overgrown plushy."

"Funny you say that," Rocket countered, stepping in front of the stroller, "'Cause you told me you were jus' gonna sell some of my product, pay me in a couple hours, and get free drinks at the dance club while Finnick DJ's."

"Hey, I am not that kind of fox, okay!" He declared defensively, "I just wanted to offer emotional and moral support to my friend for getting his first legitimate job in months."

"True that." Finnick agreed, eyes still closed in the stroller. "For all your talk about bein' sly, you got the game of a nerdy wildebeest. Dance moves of a brain-damaged lemur, too." Nick kicked the stroller right where Finn's butt would be, but otherwise kept a straight face.

"Do you know an Emmett Otterton?" Rocket asked, holding up the family picture Emma gave him. "Florist, old as dirt, Muzzlebook friends with everybody?"

"I know everybody, Stripes," Nick answered, "And I also know that I make it a point to not get involved with any kind of investigations. Whatever it is you two are up to, I want no part of it."

Rocket hummed, casually unholstering his gun, and giving it a quick inspection. The gesture was innocent enough, but it also had the tone of the bounty hunter establishing power and control over the conversation. "C'mon, Red," He said in an almost sing-song voice, "is that any way to treat a buddy like me? After all I've done for you? Don't you think saving your life from those polar bear thugs is worth helping me find one little otter?"

"Funny you say that," Nick countered, still wearing that cocky smirk, "'Cause I recall the deal being you keeping us safe from Mr. Big's mammals, and I don't tell anyone about Groot."

Rocket's face fell, and Judy looked at him in mild confusion. "Who's Groot?" She asked.

"Nobody!" He snapped, glaring at the fox. "You _sure_ you want to go down this road, Red?"

"Sorry, Stripes." Nick grinned. "You've got nothing on me I can't also put on you. Now step aside, please."

"Alright then, Wilde," Rocket warned, leaning against the cart, putting his gun back on his back. "Don't say I didn't warn ya. Your turn, Fluffybutt." He extended a paw, and Judy slapped it, tagging herself into the foray. Quicker than either three males could blink, there was a CLINK! of metal as a tirejack latched onto the stroller's front right tire.

"Did you just jack my stroller?" Nick demanded, utterly bewildered on how she did it so fast... as he was _looking_ at her. "How the hell did you do that?"

"Nick Wilde," She announced, "You're under arrest."

"For what?" He sneered in a baby voice, "Ruining a wittle bunny's first day at work?"

Judy smiled, and said, "Patent Infringement." Nick raised an eyebrow, and she explained, "See, on our way here, your 'bodyguard' explained to me that you've been selling his inventions without his consent."

"No I didn't!" Nick gestured to the raccoon. "Rocket, we both agreed I'd sell your inventions for a cut of the profits. Finnick was there, we shook hands and everything!"

"We did," Rocket agreed, "But see, _verbal_ agreements don't hold up in court. It just boils down to he-said she-said nonsense."

"Well," Nick crossed his arms defiantly, "Then it's our word against yours."

"True, true." Judy continued. "Buuut, even though you're both predators, one of you has the patents to each item sold, and thus the final say on who gets permission. That certain someone also happens to have a mask on his face, is working with just a 'typical dumb bunny' - we're good at multiplying, though - and is on very good terms with the Deputy Mayor. Gee, I wonder who the judge is going to side with?"

Rocket gave a big smile and pointed to himself. Nick was not amused.

"Patent Infringement carries a rather hefty fine with it, too." The bunny continued, "Amounting to a complete refund of all profits gained from the products, with an additional 0.8% interest rate. Which, in your case-"

"Basically everything you own and then some." Rocket answered for her. "You can claim that you were makin' 'hundreds of dollars a day, every day since you were twelve", but that outfit you've been wearing since I met you says you're more broke than Finnick!"

"Hey, I just rented an apartment!" Finn objected. "I moved out of my van last week. I'm not like this dork, forced to live under a bridge."

"I don't live under a bridge," Nick corrected, "I live in the basement of the Palms Hotel, right next to the boiler room. I get free breakfast and wi-fi in exchange for hitting it with a wrench twice a day. I'm in the lap of luxury."

"Well, if you don't help us," The cop threatened in a sing-song voice, "The only place you'll be selling pawsicles and getting free meals is in a jail cafeteria. What was it you told me yesterday? 'It's called a hustle, sweetheart'? Well, us dumb bunnies know a thing or two about that game, so you'd best check yourself before you wreck yourself."

The three males looked at her in surprise. They were quiet for a moment, but then Rocket began clapping, and Finnick started laughing. "Dayum, girl," The fennec giggled, "You got some game. I've never seen anyone hustle my boy like you just did. Rocky, did you train this cop, or is that all her?"

"It's _au naturale,_ buddy." He answered honestly. "I'm just as surprised as you."

"Well, looks like you won't be needin' me today, Nick." Finnick got out of the stroller, and slapped one of the little ZPD stickers he had on Nick's shirt. "Good luck, bro. You a cop, now." He walked down a nearby alley, laughing the whole way, leaving the red fox alone with the cop and bounty hunter.

They looked at him expectantly, and he sighed. "I don't know what happened to the guy, I just know where he went."

"Great!" The cop exclaimed, getting back in her vehicle. "Then you can take us there." Rocket moved to the back, allowing Nick shotgun so he couldn't escape.

Nick smirked, and stated, "I gotta warn ya, it's not the kinda place a cute bunny like yourself would be cool with. Rocket, however, I think this'll be right up your alley."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"He demanded, and then Judy growled, "Don't call me 'cute', get in."

"Whatever you say, Carrots." Wilde got in, and Rocket scratched his chin in puzzlement. _Carrots?_ He thought, _What kind of nickname is that? Dat's like calling him Blueberry, or calling me... I dunno, Booze or somethin'..._

* * *

Their first stop was Otterton's last known location - the Mystic Springs Resort. It was an ornate looking place, with beautiful statues and bushes and the scent of incense wafting in the air. The three mammals were dwarfed by the door, beautifully carved and meant for larger creatures. They entered the building, which was decorated with "Eastern" monastic totems and artifacts, but never so much as to seem busy or overblown. Towards the back of the building, their was an office of sorts where a super-hairy, super-dirty yak was meditating. That, or humming in an annoying fashion to pretend they weren't there, Rocket couldn't tell.

"Excuse me," Judy called out to the yak, trying to get his attention. Alas, the yak continued meditating and humming. "Excuse me!" She called out louder. Again, the yak didn't acknowledge her. Rocket stepped forward, clapped three times and shouted, "Hey Stinky, wake up!"

The yak snorted and coughed, and moved his dreadlocks from his eyes. "Oh hey there!" He greeted them rather lazily, "Just so you guys know, I don't have a problem with you Jehoofa Witness types doin' your thing. But you should knock first before just walking onto private property like this - some of our customers don't like preachers or Bunny Scout types waltzing in on their chill-time, you know?"

"Actually," Judy explained, "We're here for Emmett Otterton. He was last seen entering your establishment. Do you know him?"

The yak squinted at the picture, and gave a weird-sounding bark of laughter. "Oh yeah, he was here a while ago." He explained. "Had a yoga class with our instructor Nagi. She's out back. I'll take you to her."

"Perfect!" Rocket exclaimed, turning to give a condescending look at Nick. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it? All we need is _ohfrikin'god! Where are your clothes?!"_

Rocket and Judy looked away as the Yak went and exposed his... well, bits and pieces. The yak noticed their reaction, and laughed as he shook his hips. "Don't worry, dudes," He cooed, "We're a naturalist club."

"You're a what now?"

"Rocket," Nick murmured to the confused and embarrassed raccoon and bunny, "You know how anyone can be anything in Zootopia? These guys? They be in the buff."

The yak opened the doors, and both cop and bounty hunter were mortified by the sight they saw. Mammals everywhere, big and small - playing volleyball, scratching their backs on trees, swimming, and a dozen other recreational activities. And there wasn't a single scrap of clothing as far as the eye could see.

Judy's ears dropped. "Oh... my... go-"

"Holy shiznits!" Rocket exclaimed, pointing in amazement. "Look at the size of those things!"

"Does this make either of you uncomfortable?" Nick looked at them, all smug and condescending. "If it does, there's no shame in just leaving and going about our day like nothing happened."

"What? No, of course not!" Judy snapped defensively. "I'm not going to be scared off just because of all these giant... saggy... wrinkly-"

"Come on, guys," The yak interrupted, not even bothered in the slightest bit, "Nagi's this way."

And so the four of them walked through the garden. The yak droned on about their nudist lifestyle, how animals wearing clothes was more weird than not wearing them, but none of them were listening. Nick just kept his eyes on his compatriots, enjoying the looks on their faces as they walked underneath a giraffe's downstairs. Judy was practically covering her face with her ears, desperately trying to avoid eye contact and not look. Rocket, however, had the opposite problem. Part of him realized it was very rude to look and stare, but for the life of him he couldn't _not_ look. It wasn't even like a physical arousal thing, it was just medically fascinating. Later on, he would describe the nudist colony experience being like a mix of an art exhibit, a freak show and a shopping mall rolled into one. Everything was just so odd, so mesmerizing that he couldn't look away.

Except for that one panther, licking himself while making "come hither" eyes at them. "The hell you lookin' at?" He growled at the perv, not knowing if he was looking at him or Judy, and not liking either version. The big cat wisely looked away and went about his business.

They reached Nagi the elephant, posing this way and that as she was doing a class. She was bending over, giving them all a great shot of her ass, and Rocket thought, _Goddamn, you could smuggle a city's worth of crack in that cr-... nah, too easy._

Judy and the yak interviewed the elephant, Nick leaned over to Rocket and whispered, "You know Finnick likes bigger women, right?"

Rocket scoffed. "Yeah, but all women are bigger than him. Copper here's bigger than him, for god's sake!"

"No, I mean _big_ women." Nick nodded to Nagi the elephant. Rocket grimaced. "Wait," He whispered, "is that why he keeps goggles and rope next to the scented candles in his van?"

"Yeah," The fox chuckled, "why? What did you think he was keeping it for?"

"... I just thought he was into kinky stuff. Guess it was a different kink than I imagined."

"Smooth, Stripes."

"Hey, I'm not the one who took us to the Pants-off Dance-off Club with Rape face panthers and the Grand Canyon, smirking a shit-eating grin the whole damn time!"

"Stripes, you just need to chill." He hissed. "Here, why don't we follow everyone's example and work it the old way." He started going for his belt, working to open it up when Rocket leaned over and grabbed his tie. Pulling him close, the raccoon growled, "If you take off yer clothes and start runnin' around like a damn idiot, I'm gonna shoot 50,000 volts up yer 'foxhole'! Got it?"

"Jeeze, Rocky, don't be such a prude!" Nick pushed himself off, straightening his tie. "I'm just trying to have a little fun, here!"

"We can have fun when her job, my license and my pride aren't on the line! Now come on!" Judy had finished speaking with the yak and elephant, having come back with a full page of notes, including the make and model of a the car and a license plate number.

"Okay, the good news is we have another lead," She announced as they left the building, "The bad news is that I'm not in the system, so I can't run the plate."

Nick looked at her with that smug hustling smirk, and suggested, "I know someone at the DMV who can run a plate lickety split."

"Oh no you don't!" Rocket challenged, stepping in front of Hopps. "Don't listen to him, Long Ears. I know the guy he's talkin' about - he's the _last_ person we want to deal with. He'll only slow us down!"

"If you'd prefer we look it up at your place," The fox pointed out, "and introduce Cottontail to Groot, then by all means, let's go to your place."

"Seriously, who's Groot?" Judy asked again.

"Nobody!" Rocket answered. It was at this moment that Rocket realized he could either go back to one of the worst places he'd ever been to, or be forced to introduce Groot to a cop he had just met. While there was no easy choice, he knew what he had to do...

* * *

"Wait, they're all SLOTHS?!" Judy exclaimed as they entered the DMV. Indeed, every person working behind the desks was a sloth - horrid, matted furred creatures that moved like someone was holding down a slow-motion button in a film.

"What?" Nick challenged her innocently, "You think just because they're sloths doesn't mean they can move fast?"

"I hate you." Rocket grumbled, anxious and frustrated and not having any of this whatsoever. "I hate you so much right now."

"Oh come on, Stripes. Flash has always treated us right. I don't see what the problem is."

"Nick," Rocket growled, voice brimming with surprising amounts of barely repressed anger, "I have been to the worst prisons imaginable. I've survived explosions, battles, heists. I've see my best friend blown up to tiny little pieces. I've seen things and been through things that would scare the crap out of you. But THIS, going to the DM-frickin'-V, with THESE mammals, is one of the worst things I've ever been through!"

"It's that bad, huh?" Judy asked, both sympathetic and worried.

"It's not JUST the sloths," Rocket explained, "though that is a big part of it. I don't like that you have an office building full of people doing something that should be automated. I don't like having to wait around for hours to get an ID or license. I don't like waiting around with mammals as miserable or more miserable than I am. And I hate, hate, HATE that they only have the radio on some goddamn easy-listening, jazzy, snooze fest of a station! It makes me feel like I'm in a hospital."

"Let me guess," Nick guessed casually, "You hate hospitals too?"

Rocket glared at him, baring his teeth ever so slightly. "You have no idea, fox-boy."

Sensing that he was striking a rather touchy subject, Nick switched his gaze to the sloth in front of them, and greeted, "Flash, Flash, Hundred-Yard Dash! Nice to see you again!"

Flash moved - raising his head ever so slowly, eyes widening slightly in recognition -and with the patented slowness that just got right under the bounty hunter's fur, greeted, "Nice...to...see you...too." Then he looked over at the raccoon, and continued, "...and you...as well...Rock..."

"Yeah, a real bla-"

...y."

Rocket's eye twitched, and he balled his fists in a desperate fight to control his anger. _I will NOT go postal_ , He repeated mentally, _I will NOT go postal. I will NOT shoot him in the face. I will NOT shoot him in the face_.

"What..." Flash drawled, "Can I... do... for you..."

"Well," Judy started, "We need to-"

"-Today?"

The bunny paused. Nick had the smuggest damn smile on his muzzle, and Rocket ground his teeth as he forced his paws to stay away from his gun.

"...Rrrright." She continued. "We need to ID a plate number, and it's _really_ important that we get this done as fast as possible. Can you do that for us?"

"Sure... Thing... What's... The plate-"

"Hey Flash," Rocket shouted, pointing to something behind the sloth, "Look, it's Gazelle!"

It took three solid seconds for Flash to register what he heard - _Stars, how do you things survive?!_ \- his eyes widening in recognition and surprise. Slowly, he began turning his body around. Rocket carefully snuck out of the sloth's field of view, and as soon as he was out of it he jumped over the counter, rapidly typing away at the computer.

"Rocket!" Judy half-whispered, half-shouted, "What're you doing?!" Nick's eyes widened as he stepped back, equally surprised. Many of the other mammals were looking at them in curious interest, while the sloths were taking their sweet time to notice.

"We don't have time for this." He hissed, putting in the plate number, make and model in the search engine. " _I_ don't have time for this. Whoever thought of this should get shot into a star for being a cruel little troll."

Many mammals in line turned to him and gasped at this break in the rules - why hadn't they thought of it? This would've been soo much quicker! - while the sloths continue doing their business, either not having processed what was happening or not caring. Flash had only fully turned when Rocket printed out the owner and address of the limo, quickly ripping it out. He blinked, and grew the same smug smile as Nick had as he came up with a nasty little idea. Quickly, he pushed Flash's chair, sending the sloth gliding a couple of feet down the way. Flash, only just now realizing something was up, turned his smile into a frown.

"Heeeeeey..."

"Quick, cheese it!" He shouted, making a run for the door. Nick and Judy looked at each other, then at Rocket, and then bolted as well. They didn't even bother looking back to see if anyone was after them (even though this was the one DMV in town without a security guard), they just ran for the parking lot, loaded up in Judy's cart, and booked it out of there.

"I can't believe you just did that, Rocket!" She chastised him as they drove away. "That was so mean! You can't just do stuff like that!"

"I don't remember any law saying that we _couldn't_ do somethin' like that!" He countered, "and besides, we got in and out before sundown. Last time I went there, I entered at noon, and got out as they were closing... At 8 at night! So you're frickin' welcome, Fluffybutt!"

"Okay, fine," She conceded, "What does it say?"

Rocket read the paper, and he blinked. He read it again, and a pit started forming in his stomach. "Uh oh."

"Uh oh?" Nick uttered. Rocket showed him the paper, and his eyes widened. "Yeah, definitely uh oh."

"What?" Judy demanded. "Where is it?"

"It's a limo service," Nick explained nervously, his fur already standing on end, "Owned by Mr. Big. In Tundratown."

"Great!" Judy declared, throwing her fist in the air, "To Tundratown it is!" She slammed her foot on the accelerator, pushing the cart as fast as it could, as Nick and Rocket exchanged a nervous look. It was only now that both of them realized - this could go bad _very_ quickly...


	7. Chapter 7

For what seemed like the tenth time today, both Nick and Rocket felt that they were stuck in a pickle. And for the first time that day, they were both in agreement.

"Absolutely not." Nick stated defiantly. "Not on your life, Cottontail."

"Yeah, I gotta side with Red on this one, Judes," Rocket agreed, "We genuinely can't go into Tundratown."

"What, why?" Judy demanded, stopping the cart at an intersection, "The plate is in Tundratown. We've got a lead here, and we need to follow it up!"

"I get that," Rocket conceded, "But we have an... Understanding with some of the big players in that part of town. If we go down there, someone's gonna come after Nick, I'm gonna have ta drop some bastards, and it's just gonna slow us all down."

"Guys, we're all in this together." She reminded them. "Nick, I can still get you for fraud. Rocket, we both promised Mrs. Otterton that we'd find her husband. Our jobs depend on us finding Emmett. I don't know about you, but I'm not going to give up just because some bad guys want to give us a bad time."

"And I don't plan on giving up," The raccoon countered, "but there are better ways of doin' this than headin' straight into a shootout."

"Like how?"

Rocket weighed his options. He either had to go with Judy to the frozen part of town, and risk all of them getting into the fight with the mob... Or take them to his place to use his computer and resources, and be forced to introduce her to Groot.

On one hand, he hardly knew this rabbit - letting anyone else know about his friend was risky business, and he had no guarantee that the hologram would be ready in time. He also had no idea how she'd react to a giant talking plant-man, and had little in the way of a backup plan if she freaked out.

On the other hand, if they went to Tundratown, he knew there'd be a fight. If anyone saw him or Nick, those polar bears would be on their ass faster than a quark. If they survived that fight (which of course they would), they'd have to deal with days of paperwork, investigations over all the dead bears, accusations of racism and legalized murder and whatnot. None of which would help him, Judy or Emma.

It was really a simple choice for him. He could force himself to go through the DMV, but going to Tundratown was just more risky than letting Hopps in on the secret. He had to bite the bullet.

Rocket sighed, "I've got some resources back home. We can look up who works for the limo company, see who's a driver, and who was driving that car that night. Then we can find that guy, talk to him, and see what happened. And we don't even have to worry about gettin' cold or shot!"

Judy crossed her arms, thinking it over. The bounty hunter had a point - if he could do the research at his place, it would save them time, a trip, and a possible fight. At the same time, though, she _really_ wanted to personally check out the limo - her gut was telling her that something important happened in that car, and she wanted to look it over before the limo company could tamper with it, if they hadn't already.

She didn't get a chance to give her say, though. No sooner had the light turned green and they began to move, a large white limousine sped up from behind and rear-ended them, sending all three off and hitting the pavement. Rocket, having sat in the back, got launched the farthest, rolling several feet before coming to a stop below a streetlight. He groaned in stunned pain as he tried to focus his vision. Three big polar bears got out of the back seat of the limo, and one of them went to pick up the limp-looking bodies of Nick and Judy while the other two made a beeline for him. Rocket had just barely managed to recompose himself and stand up when one of them kicked him right in the gut. He bounced off the streetlight and landed on the concrete with a THUD!, wind knocked out of him. He dry-heaved once, twice, unable to breathe.

The one who kicked before got behind him, and again kicked him right in the small of his back. Again the raccoon bounced against the lightpost, but this time there was the sound of a CRACK! as the bear fell, clutching his foot in pain. "Damnit," He moaned, "What his spine made of?! I broke my toe!"

Having enough awareness now to realize he needed help, Rocket put a paw into a pocket, and pressed a discrete little button. One that activated a signal and alarm all the way back at his warehouse, where Groot would still be waiting for his cloak. In the meantime, Rocket was picked up by his tail, and lifted to eye level with one of the polar bears. "Remember me, _vermin_?"

Rocket remembered that voice - the Ronan soundalike. "Raymond, was it?" He coughed, looking at him upside down. "How's your buddies' balls feelin'?"

The polar bear scoffed. "You just don't know when to shut your mouth, do you?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing." He felt his breath coming back to him, and he said, "Tell ya what, you let me and the fox and bunny go, I'll go easy on you and yuh boys fer ratting me out."

"You're in no position to demand anything from me," Raymond growled, "especially without your pet plant to save you."

"Ohh, give him time, he'll show up. If you think it was bad before, wait until I tell him to cut loose."

"I'm sure he's very scary, but he's not here _now,_ is he? Come, Mr. Big and Mr. Koslov would like to speak with you."

"Well, I don't _feel_ like talkin' to anybody right now, so why don't ya kiss my-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Raymond swung the raccoon against the lightpost, his skull bouncing off the metal with a loud _PING!_ And then there was blackness...

xxxxxxxx

In Rocket's warehouse, a certain sapient tree was watching a _Paw and Order_ marathon when his phone got a buzz. Looking at it, a pop-up text read: _R_ _ocket in danger! In need of rescue ASAP!_ Then a little map of the city popped up, showing a series of directions leading from the warehouse to Rocket's current location. He was moving, heading into the heart of Tundratown. Perhaps those nasty polar bears from before got him?

Groot got up, and went to the workshop to see how the holographic cloak was doing. His friend had been adamant - don't leave the warehouse until the cloak is finished. Rocket didn't want him to be seen, and risk being taken away by government types. But at the same time his little buddy was in danger, and he needed to get going now. If something happened to the scrappy little mustelid, Groot had no idea what he would do with himself. What _could_ he do with himself on this world?

Fortunately, he had little to fear about waiting. The holo-cloak - which was more of a backpack that produced a holographic field around him - read out 98% completion in the downloading process. _98%?_ He thought, _Might as well be finished._ He unplugged the device from the charging station, putting it on his back as he went for the front door. He didn't know how long the battery would last, nor did he have a plan in mind to break out his buddy. All he knew was that the quickest way to get to where Rocket might eventually be without being detected was through the sewers, and it so happened that a mammal-hole entrance to the sewer was right in front of the warehouse, easily big enough for him to slip through.

With determination and single-mindedness, he activated the cloak, opened the door, and stepped out into the humid evening air...

* * *

 _Fly me to the moon_  
 _Let me play among the stars_  
 _Let me see what spring is like_  
 _On a, Jupiter and Mars_  
 _In other words, hold my hand_  
 _In other words, baby, kiss me_

It was some time later when Rocket finally regained consciousness, lying on the cold floor of the limo with a splitting headache, listening to the crooning voice of some big band singer.

Looking up, he saw Nick and Judy were sitting between a pair of bear muscle men, bruised and scared but otherwise in good condition. The Bears had their eyes on him, glaring at him maliciously as he slowly woke up. One of them held his gun on his lap, pointed in his general direction but not exactly aimed.

"Good," Raymond sneered, "You're awake. I was starting to fear I hit you too hard."

"I ain't that easy to kill, dude." he winced, rolling on his side. His bones were made out of super-tough space metals. His muscles, less so. A minor healing factor didn't just make getting tossed around, kicked in the back or slammed into steel magically go away. Go away faster? Sure, but not completely disappear.

"Guys," Judy whispered, hoping not to raise the attention of the other bears playing on their phones, "what did you two do to get this Mr. Big so angry?"

"Oh, he hasn't told you yet?" Rocket snickered, propping himself up on an elbow. "Dipshit tried to sell a mob boss a rug made from skunk ass. He sold it to his mom, and she went and died on it. Everyone blames the fox - 'cause why _wouldn't_ you, he sold it and everythin' - he runs and hides at my place. Ninnies of the North tried to intimidate me, they got themselves some shock therapy instead."

"You left a nasty burn on poor Kevin's leg," Raymond barked, "you've been breaking your word on never entering Tundratown, and now you break Kevin's foot, too? Your hole is getting deeper, my friend."

"First off, not as deep as your hole will be when Groot comes in to kick your fluffy white asses." He snarled. "Second, hey Kevin, I've been meaning to ask - after I zapped you, does your junk still work? The last thing I want is for other criminals ta sue me for givin' 'em impotency from zappin' too hard."

"Screw you, asshole!" The polar bear growled. "It still hurt to make love to wife!"

"Well, I'm sorry to here about that, buddy." He apologized sarcastically, "Maybe the first thing you say to someone shouldn't be a threat and an insult! As for number three, none of us have even _gone_ to Tundratown since that night. I held up my promise jus' fine, but you chicken-shits were the ones who wanted a Round Two."

"Oh really?" Raymond grinned, and turned to Nick. "Hey Wilde, have you told your friend how you've been freezing all your pawsicles? You don't have your own freezer, I know that."

Rocket and Judy looked at Nick, who was suspiciously averting his gaze. "Nick," The raccoon growled, an edge of frustration in his voice, "Please tell me you haven't been entering Tundratown. _Please_ tell me you aren't that stupid!"

"W-we barely entered Tundratown," He tried to explain, "Finnick and I kept right at the edge, in the alleys. We never entered Big's turf or anything. Nobody saw us!"

"Oh my god," Judy murmured in horrified understanding, "I got stuck with the two biggest idiots in Zootopia."

They drove on for another ten minutes, before the limo pulled into a long driveway, leading to a massive mansion. The polar bears grabbed Nick and Rocket by the tails, while Judy was picked up painfully by the ears. Each of them tried to kick out, but the bears held firm as they took them into a well-furnished den. Each of them was dropped unceremoniously on the ground, and as they got up a side door opened up. Two more bears - these two much bigger than the rest - walked in, with the smaller one holding something in his giant paws, the bigger one dressed like a Russian mobster. Nick was already wringing his paws nervously, though Judy and Rocket were much less bothered by the display.

"Alright," Rocket started, dusting himself off, "Which one of youse is this 'Mr. Big' I keep hearing 'bout?"

The smaller one placed his paws down on the desk, showing a tiny chair. He spun it around, revealing a tiny, old shrew with big, bushy eyebrows. Rocket snorted as he bit back a laugh, earning himself glares from everyone, especially Nick. Really? _This_ was the mammal everyone was afraid of? His left nut was bigger than this hairball, for gods' sake! Why were these giants working for him, when they could pop him like a pimple?

"Mr. Big, s-sir," Nick stammerd, clasping his paws together, "I-I can explain wha-" The shrew hemmed and extended a tiny hand, an oversized ring on one finger. Nick kneeled down, and gingerly kissed the ring. A rather emasculating act in the 'coon's eyes, but he was a bit familiar with mob etiquette and the like. "Sir," He continued, "you know I didn't try to kill Mama Big. I'd never do anything to hurt her. I-"

"I know this." The shrew spoke, his voice high yet raspy. Nick's ears went up. "You... you do?"

"Of course I do." Big waved a hand dismissively. "Gran-mama, bless her heart, she suffered a stroke in her sleep the night the rug was put in her room. The rug you sold had nothing to do with her death, and she wouldn't want me to blame you for what happened. So I won't... But that's not the reason why you will die tonight."

The fox's eyes widened, and his ears fell back. Big continued, "Raymond and Kevin weren't sent to kill you the night of the funeral - they were sent to bring you personally to me, so we could talk about your future in the family. Gran-mama welcomed you in, you broke bread with us, you _were_ one of us. Instead, you ran. You left Tundratown without paying any respects, but kept coming back like a thief in the night to continue your petty scams. I thought she taught you better than that, to be something better than a common conman. But I guess foxes always turn back to their old ways, don't they?" Nick couldn't look him in the eye.

"But what _really_ bothers me," he said, an angry edge growing in his tone, "is that you now choose to associate yourself with _that_ mammal over there." He pointed at Rocket, his voice thick with disgust.

"Me?" Rocket protested. "What did I do? I haven't even met you before!"

"Half of all the bounties you collected were employees of ours!" The polar bear growled. "Whether you knew it or not, you were interfering with our business. On top of that, you assaulted two of my males, to the point where I had to force them to tell me what happened! For the past few months, you've been a thorn in our side, rocking the boat without a care in the world!"

"Hold on, who the hell are you?" Rocket demanded.

"I am Koslov, and I am Big's majordomo." The bear told him. "You and those foxes have been pains in my ass for a long time. And now you're here, unannounced on the day of his daughter's wedding and my son's bear mitzvah, with this stripper. Tell me, why shouldn't we just kill you three right now, and solve all our problems?"

"Hey, I'm no stripper!" Judy protested. Nick hissed at her to shut up.

"I can think of a couple reasons, actually." Rocket stated. "First off, that's no stripper, that's _Officer_ Judy Hopps. ZPD's new best and brightest, media darlin' and favorite of the police chief and the mayor himself. We all know what lengths cops will do to avenge one of their own, even if they're corrupt, rookies or average joes. Imagine what they'll do for the first ever bunny cop. Secondly, my boy Groot is on his way here _right now,_ comin' to rescue me. If I'm dead, there's nothin' to keep him from killin' everyone and everythin' in this building. Long Ears and I are all dat's keepin' you from meetin' a long an' painful death."

Mr. Big and Koslov glanced at each other. Koslov went into his jacket, and pulled out a can of hairspray and a lighter. "We have ways to take care of your friend, Mr. Raccoon. And we also have ways to deal with loose ends like you two."

"All I ask," the shrew declared, "is that you say hello to gran-mama. Ice 'em!"

The henchmen went and grabbed the fox and bunny, as a trapdoor opened in the middle of the room, revealing a pool of icy water. But as they reached Rocket, he pulled something out of one of his pockets.

"Hold it right there, ya big bastards!" He shouted, holding a small, cylindrical object above his head. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him, as he himself grew a mad smile. "Ohhh, I'm never one ta go anywhere without havin' a backup plan for any situation. In my hand is a Strong-Nuclear Destabilizer, another fine weapon in Rocket Industries. This little grenade, when it detonates, causes the Strong Nuclear Force that holds atoms and molecules together to turn off and turn to Weak Nuclear Force - Radiation, essentially. Everything within a ten foot radius is broken down to the sub-atomic level, creating an explosion big enough to destroy everything in this room, this building, maybe even the entire city - I've never tested it before, what can ya do? Now, you guys are gonna put down the fox and bunny, you're gonna give me back my gun, an' we're gonna walk outta dis house wit' no trouble. Anyone tries to move on me, I pull this pin, this thing goes BOOM, and we all see what species God is."

"You're bluffing!" Koslov challenged him, "That's just a bodyspray can you modified! You wouldn't be crazy enough to pull that pin! You'll die, too!"

"Wanna bet?" Everyone stood silent and still, as they waited to see who would move first.

"DADDY!" Two voices called out, as two more mammals entered the den. It was a little polar bear cub, wearing oddly familiar clothes, holding a tiny shrew with poofy hair and a wedding dress, looking nonplussed by the whole thing. The cub placed the bride on the desk, who rushed up to Big.

"Daddy, what are you doing?" The cub asked, his voice only slightly accented, "Mommy's about to bring out the cake, and everyone's waiting for you to give me the Adult Necklace." Each polar bear besides the cub had a gold chain-necklace, the sign of made-males in the mob.

"What did I say?" The shrew snapped at her father. "I said there was gonna be no icing anyone on my wedding night. And now you're trying to ice _three_ of them?!"

"We're in the middle of a stand-off, Boris," Koslov explained to his son, "Please, take Ms. Fru-Fru back to the party. We'll be with you shortly."

"Wait a second," the cub exclaimed, "I remember you two!"

"Oh yeah!" Fru-Fru pointed at Judy, "That bunny saved my life today!"

"That raccoon saved me, too!" Boris went up to Rocket, not paying any mind to the grenade in his hand as he placed a paw on his shoulder. "He pulled me out of the way of a speeding car, gave me the clothes off his back when mine were shredded. He is a hero!" Rocket blinked, as it took him a second to remember the cub. Sure enough, he was wearing the polo shirt and pants he had on earlier this morning. Judy was quicker on the uptake, as she said, "Oh yeah! I love your dress, by the way!"

"Is this true, merc?" Koslov asked, "Are those your clothes?"

"Yeah, they are. He can keep 'em, though - it looks better on him."

Big and Koslov exchanged a look. Big nodded, Koslov waved his paw, and Nick and Judy were released. "You two have done a great service for our families this day." Koslov thanked them, "Out of respect for saving our children's lives, we shall spare yours as well. Come, we welcome you to join our festivities. Kevin, Raymond, show them the way in." The two bears glared at the 'coon, but said nothing as they led them to the party several rooms over. During the walk, Rocket put the grenade back in his pocket, and slapped Nick up the back of his head.

"Don't you _ever_ do somethin' like dat behind my back again!" He barked, "You made me look like a liar and a wimp, and I put my neck out to save your ass! You do dat again, and you're on your own. Got it?"

"Sorry!" The fox apologized, "I admit, it was a stupid mistake. I should've told you before we did anything. We thought we could do it without getting anyone involved, and I was wrong. I messed up, and if it weren't for you, Fru-Fru and the birthday boy we'd be dead. I'm sorry, Rocky."

Nick was very genuine when he said all this, and the raccoon sighed as he placed a paw on his shoulder. "Just give me a head's up before you do dumb shit like dat." He said. "You and Finn are the first dudes I've met here that I'd consider friends, and it'd suck somethin' major if anythin' happened to either of you." Noticing Judy eavesdropping, he spoke up, "Don't you worry, Long Ears, you're gettin' there, too. Xandar wasn't made in a day, and neither's trust."

You weren't _really_ gonna use that grenade, were you?" Nick asked.

"Hopefully I wouldn't have to." Rocket shrugged. "When I said I hadn't tested it out yet, I meant it. I have no idea if this thing can clear out a room or a building - hell, I don't even know if it works."

"Then why do you carry it around?"

"Intimidation purposes, duh! Speaking of..." The bounty hunter reached into another pocket, and pressed the tracker button to deactivate it. Groot wasn't going to be needed now. "Now, let's go to the party. I hope they have an open bar, I still got a headache..."

* * *

Groot had been exploring the sewers for several hours now, and was finally at the halfway point. He got lost once or twice, but once he found the subway lines, things got a lot more simplified. And roomy - he no longer had to hunch over the entire time to avoid losing branches. This must've been an abandoned part of the system, as he never saw nor heard a subway for over twenty minutes. At least the lights were still on, so he didn't have to deploy his firefly lights.

As he turned down another passageway, his phone buzzed. Looking down, Groot got an update text: _Rocket safe. Return home._ A series of directions popped up, showing him a way back. This time, though, it looked like it would take longer getting back than it took getting here. Groot sighed - he liked that he finally got out of the warehouse, but he didn't want to spend the whole night skulking through the underground. And now he had to backtrack through the veritable maze of tunnels and tracks to get back home, before the battery in his phone gave out. _Ugh._

Groot took a left down a nearby tunnel, and came across a rather strange sight. In the middle of the track was a derelict subway car, purple lights shining from within. Being cautious, he activated the cloak, and kept to the shadows as the illusion took form. Slowly and silently, he approached the train car, and peered into a window.

Inside was a veritable drug lab. Two rows of bluish flowers sat under nourishing ultraviolet lights, with various gardening utensils scattered about. In the middle of the car, a chemistry set filled with blue liquids was being automated, filling little paintball sized pellets. The back wall had a section dedicated as a workshop, while the other had a map of the city, with pictures of various mammals stapled and X'd out.

Groot didn't know what all of this was for, but he was cognizant enough to see that it might be important, and so he brought out his camera-phone to start recording all of it. He remained in the shadows as he heard a phone ring, and a fluffy, horned mammal walked into view. "Black Panther, Rainforest District. Got it." The ram said, a hoof pressing into an earpiece. "Look, I've been meaning to ask you something. Are you sure we should be bringing the 'coon into this?... Yeah, I know no one's told him, and we should keep it that way. I'm just concerned about your apparent interest in his gadgets... Well, just look at them!"

The ram picked up a cylindrical object off the work desk, and Groot recognized it as being an altered version of Rocket's gas grenades. "This hardware is right outta the Special Services. I'm talking stuff that Jack Savage would have the nerds at MK-9 work on. This guy built weapons and devices that took years for our best and brightest to make in days... You don't understand. He built a fully functional plasma gun in a WAREHOUSE, with a box of SCRAPS! No military on this planet has built anything like it, and they've been working at it for decades!... My point is I don't trust him, and I don't want us using a Predator's inventions to accomplish our plans! And I don't like how suddenly you're taking a liking to-"

The ram stopped, and Groot realized he was looking right at him through the window. As the ram squinted to see better, the plant man stopped recording, and pulled back into the shadows. He booked it away from the train car, not wanting to risk being seen even in his disguise. He got far enough to round the corner of the tracks when he came across another ram.

Woolter was just having a normal day as a racist drug-dealing terrorist - making fun of interspecies couples online, beating up uppity predators (smaller than him, of course), getting coffee for his buddies. But he hadn't been prepared for seeing what he was seeing right now. Unbeknownst to either of them, while Groot's hologram was almost complete, the final 2% was for the most important part of the disguise - the face. So what should've been a rather nondescript, preppy giraffe, was instead a well-dressed, tall and lanky being with no snout, but instead with two dark, souless eyes, and a mouth that looked like a thin line on a jack-o-lantern. For the average Zootopian, the juxtaposition took it past the Uncanny Valley and straight into Nightmare Fuel Land.

"Sweet Christmas!" He screamed, "It's Slendermane! Slendermane is real!"

Groot stepped forward, raising his hands to calm the panicked ram. However, the program glitched out at just the wrong moment, giving him the shadowy illusion of keeping his "arms" in place, while growing two tentacles out from his shoulders, raising them and reaching for the criminal. Woolter ran off screaming, leaving a trail of spilled coffee and piss in his wake. Groot in turn escaped down the tunnel he came - if Rocket was safe, then it was important that he showed him the video. Who knew if this was part of something bigger going on...


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for such a long wait, ladies and gentlemen. Real life stuff and other online commitments have kept me from doing too much work here. However, since they released a trailer for Guardians of the Galaxy 2 a few days ago (and it's Halloween at the time of this publication), I got the necessary kick in the butt to finish this up, and finally put this up. For those interested in plot derailment, this will be _the_ chapter that sets all other changes in motion.**

* * *

It's kind of hard to transition from "we're about to kill you/die" to "let's party together". Thankfully, Fru-Fru and Boris kept things cool between everyone, handing out lots of cake and keeping the beverages non-alcoholic. The shrew's wedding occupied a single table at the polar bear mitzvah, and Nick and Judy stayed close to the bride while Rocket was bounced from group to group, many Mafiosi interested in obtaining some of his sweet tech. Even before they spoke to Mr. Big about Manchas, it had become a very profitable night.

Surprisingly, the polar bears were rather impressed by Rocket. He had shown himself to be both a technical genius, and a badass brave enough to risk a fight with multiple bears, or even fight his way out of a mob wedding. Everyone wanted to talk with him, offer to buy some of his inventions, take selfies with him. Some of the older momma bears - gossiping matchmakers, one and all - were trying to set him up with some of their nieces and daughters. Dating a non-bear might not be kosher, but it'd be ok if the mammal in question was going to be rich and handsome like he was. He didn't know how to really feel about that one - flattered, maybe? Bears might not be his thing, but it always flatters the ego knowing that a bunch of people might find you attractive.

After about a few hours of that, both parties were wrapping up, and he was finally able to link back up with the fox and bunny. They told him about what happened to Mr. Otterton - how he had gone crazy in the limo, attacked the driver, and then ran off into the jungle. Kinda surprising that an old-ass nerdy otter was able to terrorize a panther like that, but hell, Emmett was apparently full of surprises. Mr. Big said Manchas lived up in the Rainforest District, and Koslov was kind enough to provide transport to that part of town - after returning Rocket's guns, of course. He was even kind enough to have one of his men drive him down to the Rainforest District, to the same neighborhood that Manchas lived in.

It was getting close to midnight as the three investigators were dropped off in the rainforest, a light drizzle leaving everything moist and damp. It took some time to find the right address - Manchas lived in the Rainforest District's equivalent to an apartment building: a giant, semi-artificial tree, with multi-room flats carved into the trunk on every single level. The panther happened to live close to the top of one tree, which was also interconnected to several other complexes.

When they found the right place, Judy rang the doorbell - a series of wooden wind chimes from higher up the tree. The fox and bunny stood close to the door, while Rocket held back a little bit, keeping guard. He'd been surprised once already today, he didn't want to go through it a second time. They waited a few moments before the door finally creaked open, and a hoarse voice asked, "What do you want?"

"Mr. Manchas," Judy asked, "we're here to find out what happened a few weeks ago, with Emmett Otterton."

"What you should be asking," He whispered dramatically, "is what happened to _me?"_ He opened the door some, enough to allow the three of them to show a rather nasty series of scratches over one of his eyes. It was closed and purple and puffy, the scratch marks still a bright pink as if it happened only a few hours ago.

"That doesn't look good, fella." Rocket remarked, "You gotta put some Neosporin or somethin' on it. It's all infected n' shit."

"Wait, Otterton did that to you?" Wilde asked skeptically, "But he's two-foot nothing, and you're... well, you're a panther."

"He wasn't _just_ an otter, that night," Manchas murmured, "He was a _savage!_ He walked on all fours like a beast, biting and clawing and tearing at whatever he could get his paws on. I open the window to check up on him, and he leaped at me, nearly causing me to crash! I pulled over to the side of the road, getting out before he could take the rest of my eye, and he ran out into the forest. The whole time, he was screaming about Nighthowlers, how dangerous they were."

 _Nighthowlers?_ Rocket's ears perked up. _That word sounds familiar. Where have I heard it before?_

"Oh Nighthowlers!" Nick said, "So you know about them, too? That's great. Why don't you let us in? You can tell us what you know, and we'll tell you what we know, ok?" The panther nodded in agreement, and proceeded to unlock the door.

 _Pitchoo!_

Rocket's ears perked up as he heard the tell-tale sound of an air-powered gun firing. The door had opened slightly before Manchas squawked in surprise and pain, and furniture was knocked around. Rocket stepped forward, raising his gun and setting it to Stun as he opened the door. The three of them looked in, and saw the panther writhing around in pain, making increasingly animalistic sounds.

"Mr. Manchas?" Judy murmured, a chill running down her spine.

Manchas looked up at them - only it wasn't the eyes of the panther they were just talking to. Instead, it was the eyes of a feral beast, filled with hunger and rage. Judy gasped as he barred his teeth, turning himself to face them and-

"Nope!" Rocket aimed his gun, and fired a pair of stun rounds. _PING-PING!_ The panther roared in pain as he collapsed, electricity arching all across his body. He leaped forward, getting on the panther's back, binding his arms together with a pair of zip-ties. He looked up at his compatriots, who were just staring at him. "What?" He demanded, "You saw that look in his eye. He ain't right in the head. He was comin' right for us."

 _Pitchoo!_

Manchas thrashed at just the right time, knocking Rocket off him just as he felt the pellet brush past his ear, and impact the wall in front of him. Judy knelt down and pulled Nick behind the door, her own combat training kicking in. Rocket crawled over to the window, and snuck a peek. One branch over, he spotted him - the shooter. He couldn't make out much from the distance and the rain, but he could see that he was tall, in a trench coat, and using a gun similar to his own.

"Shit, we got a shooter!" He declared. Noticing the panther continue to struggle, he shouted, "You two stay here and call for backup! I got this bastard!" Lifting his gun over the edge, he fired a trio of shots at the shooter. _PING-PING-PING!_ The shooter got up and ran, and he activated his rocket boots to pursue, leaving the bunny and fox with a hyper-aggressive, barely contained panther...

xxxxxxxxx

Back in Precinct 1, it was a slower night than usual, to the point that even a certain overweight cheetah was taking a quick catnap. Or rather, full-on sleeping on the job.

"Oh Gazelle," He mumbled in his sleep, "Thank you for making me one of your dancers. I won't let you down... Chief Bogo, what're you doing here? Oooh, you're a dancer, too? We're dancing buddies, now."

The police scanner's light lit up, indicating that someone was trying to reach the station. Benjamin, however, remained asleep. "What's that? What're you guys doing with all that peanut butter? You want me to do _what?_ How did you know I always wanted to-"

Clawhauser awoke with a start when he felt his cellphone vibrate. It took him a second to realize that no, he wasn't with Gazelle, Bogo or the backup dancers, nor were there giant tubs of peanut butter anywhere in sight. _Aww,_ He thought sadly, _right when it was getting to the good part._ He pulled out his phone, and answered with a "Yello?"

 _"Clawhauser!"_ Judy shouted into the phone. Ben winced in pain from the loudness as she reprimanded, _"I've been trying to contact you through the radio, we've got a mentally unstable suspect and an armed assailant on Tahaanga Street-"_

 _"That's **Tahunga**!" _ An unknown voice shouted over shrill growling in the background. Judy continued, _"Rocket is in pursuit. We're requesting immediate assistance. We-"_

Suddenly, there was the sound of something snapping, a lamp crashing, and an angry roar. " _Shit, run for it!"_ That different voice shouted, and the line went dead.

"Judy?" Ben already knew she couldn't hear her. "Oh kitty litter." Quickly, he used the office phone to reach Bogo. Whatever he heard on the other end of the line was big, angry and needed to be dealt with before it got loose...

xxxxxxx

Rocket flew through the canopy, chasing the figure from branch to branch as he continued firing. _PING! PING! PING-PING-PING!_ The shooter, however, was surprisingly quick and agile, nimbly dodging his shots and jumping from branch to branch as quickly as Rocket could fly. Occasionally the runner would take pot shots back at him, but the bounty hunter easily dodged the attacks.

The tree building was structured rather strangely. While there was one road that the heroes used to get to Manchas, there was a second road at the top of the tree, which also had the water silo for all the apartments. Not wanting him to escape, Rocket sped up as the shooter attempted to reload, and tackled him. The two of them rolled across the platform, biting and throwing punches as their guns clattered away from them. The shooter threw him off, and Rocket got to see who this bastard was.

It was a wolf, tall and gray, tightly wrapped up in a light brown trench coat. It was dark and his collar was up, so he couldn't make out any details of his face. He could only see were the strangely reflective eyes, flickering white and gold in ways he'd never seen with other wolves.

"Why're you shootin' at us, asshole?" Rocket demanded.

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know." The wolf growled, in a voice that didn't sound right, either. It had a tone and inflection that sounded forced, like someone trying to sound like a wolf from Tundratown when they weren't. He reached his paw into his trenchcoat, and Rocket quickly tackled him again. There was a click, and he heard an object fall and roll in the direction of the water storage.

WHACK!

Rocket received a nut-shot strong enough to toss him back onto his own gun. The raccoon felt the wind get knocked out of him, and curled up slightly. As he lay there, wheezing and struggling for breath, that object then fell into the water storage.

WHOMP! Water shot upward, turning blue as it splashed on the wood and frothed within the container. Rocket, in the back of his mind, briefly considered the possibility of it being a smoke grenade or something. The wolf looked at the detonation, and though his face betrayed no expression, his voice was one of surprise and fear.

"Huh, that wasn't supposed to happen... Whelp, you're fucked. See you later, Thief!" Without further preamble, he turned and ran off, heading for the street.

"Up... yours... asshole." Rocket croaked, slowly getting to his feet. He'd have to remember that bastard, find out who he was, and give him a plasma shot to the face for that. No one goes around giving out nut shots - only _he_ can do stuff like that. He took a moment to catch his breath, and for the pain and queasiness to dissipate, when he heard screaming from down below. Shambling over to the edge of the platform, he spotted Nick and Judy desperately running for their lives, with Manchas in pursuit.

"God _damn_ this night!" He growled in frustration, reactivating his boots, "Just one frickin' thing after another!" He flew down to them, paying no mind to the water behind him as it turned a dark blue. The weird additive flowed through the pipes, connecting with mammals' sinks, showers, and the all-important fire sprinklers connected to each apartment and every room...

Nick and Judy were halfway across the plank bridge when the thing that was Manchas got to it. As he crossed it, his massive size violently shook the bridge, launching the two much lighter mammals into the air. They would've certainly fallen to their doom, had a friendly neighborhood cyber-raccoon not snatched them from out of the air.

"Need a lift?" He quipped, holding both of them in each arm, his gun slung over his back.

"Wow, I can't believe you caught us!" Judy shouted, holding on tightly as they sped through the air.

"Oh come on, none of you are that heav-AAHHH!" He screamed, as four sharp claws raked his sides. The panther had jumped up and struck both he and Hopps, cutting into his flesh and shredding her vest and belt, hitting them with enough force to knock him out of his shoes, and send all three of them crashing into the gondola platform. Nick desperately held onto a railing to avoid falling, and Hopps was left dazed from the impact, leaving Rocket on his own as Manchas made his attack. The panther pinned him to the ground - unable to reach his gun - barely being kept away from his throat with the strength of one arm. The other arm desperately clawed around to grab any kind of weapon. He struck gold when he felt Judy's belt, and the holster on the side. Hoping it was one of the new Tasers he sold to PD, he took it out, shoved it right into the panther's face, and pressed the button.

 _PSSSSSSSSH!_

Manchas screamed in pain as his good eye had an orange liquid sprayed right onto his retina. He got off Rocket, clawing at his face to stop this unknown pain. Rocket looked down at the little container in his paw - _Fox Repellent,_ it read. _Huh, that's something to bring up with Judes later._ He tried to sit up, but grunted in pain from the stabbing sensation in his side. Looking down, he saw that his side was bleeding, forming a tiny pool beneath him. The cuts weren't deep, just the type of flesh wounds that bleed a lot. _Huh, that's not good. Let's just wait a minute for the healing factor to kick in._

Manchas was now between the raccoon, fox and bunny, both eyes now completely swollen from injuries and chemicals. He blindly flailed about, unable to see or strike at those that hurt him. As he began getting close to Rocket again, Nick's face lit up as he asked loudly, "Hey Carrots, you ever play Marco Polo?" The panther turned in Wilde's direction, and started walking his way.

"Nick, go get Rocket!" Hopps ordered, "He looks really hurt!" Manchas turned around to Judy's direction, and jumped. She jumped out of the way just as the panther came in, breaking some of the railing and pounding the platform. Nick shouted to get his attention, but then the panther sniffed the air. The scent of scared prey was strong, as was the scent of blood. Manchas ignored the fox, and began stalking the rabbit.

Meanwhile, Rocket was watching this, and several things became rapidly apparent in his mind: he had not killed anyone in almost eighty days; his gun was unholstered, held in one hand; unlike the countless mooks or guards he had killed over the years, Manchas was the first person in a long time that had a name and face and personality that he would have to kill; Manchas was already dead, replaced with some homicidal beast, who fully intended to kill (and probably eat) all of them if given the chance; Judy's eyes were purple - not just any kind of purple, but the purple of a nebula, bright and powerful and beautiful. The same color as Lylla's.

In that moment, the choice had become abundantly clear.

Bracing himself against the railing, he raised his gun up and aimed in one swift motion. "Hey Manchas!" He shouted, getting the panther's attention. Manchas stopped, looking up as Judy ducked beneath the raccoon. The two hunters met each other's gaze, and Rocket desperately tried to think of a one-liner. He couldn't, and instead settled for a classic " _Fuck You!"_

 _BOOM!_

Rocket fired a ball of plasma, impacting the panther's face instantly. His skull exploded like a rotten pumpkin, showering everyone with blood and bone and brain matter. The ball flew past his body, past Nick, over the platform and into a far-off tree branch, causing it to explode. Nick and Judy looked at the body and busted tree in shock, and Rocket groaned as he fell back on the ground, the recoil exacerbating the pain in his side.

"Oh my god, Rocket!" She rushed over to his side, fur standing on end at the puddle beneath him. "You're bleeding!"

"It's just a scratch." He grumbled. "By the way, you've got a bit of panther on your shoulder." Judy looked, and sure enough there was a piece of black fur and skin on her shoulder guard. She yelped and swiped it off her shoulder, shivering from the touch.

"Holy crap, Stripes!" Nick shouted, coming over to help him up. "You just killed him!"

"I do have a knack for blowing people's minds." He chuckled, cradling his side.

"This is serious, Rocky! You're injured, our lead is dead, we've got property damage, and did you even get the shooter?"

"Nah, the bastard gave me a nut shot and ran away. But we're all alive, so it wasn't a _complete_ failure, right?"

It was then that they heard the sound of fire alarms. Turning back, they saw that the plasma from the explosion had splattered onto the side of the treehouse, causing fires to erupt. The sprinkler system for that property kicked in, soaking everything inside and out with bluish-tinted water. And then the one above it turned on. And then another, and another, up and up the tree. The three of them were too far away to get any mist or water from the spray, but anyone and everyone that was inside the apartment complex was getting soaked.

And then the roaring started.

"Uh oh."

They looked on in horror as the inhabitants of the apartments began pouring out of their homes. They came in all shapes and sizes - lions, leopards, elephants, rhinos, meerkats, cheetahs, and many more. They ran down the stairs, branches and bridges on all fours, feral glowing eyes filled with rage and hate bearing down on them.

"...How many shots do you have in that gun?" Nick whispered.

"Not enough." Was Rocket's response. He looked down at his side, red lines still running down his jumpsuit. "Won't outrun them either. Where the hell are my shoes?"

"Crap, what're we gonna do?" The fox was starting to panic, looking desperately around for a means of escape. Judy, more focused and calm, spotted several large vines on the edge.

"I've got an idea," she said, grabbing both of the males' paws, "Come on."

"Hold on, you don't plan on us-" Rocket started to protest, before she grabbed onto a vine, and pushed off, taking both of them with her just as the horde of mad mammals came down to the platform. They swung around the platform, holding on for dear life as the horde ran from one end of the platform to the other, trying to grab them.

"Carrots!" Nick exclaimed, holding onto Judy in one paw and Rocket in another, "Whatever you do, don't let go!"

"I'm letting go!" She shouted, eyes locked onto a mass of vines easily a hundred feet away.

"It's not gonna work!" Rocket shouted, "It's not gonna work you stupid BIIIIIIIIIIII-"

Hopps released the vine just as they reached the apex of their swing. They flew through the air, flailing and falling until they all slammed into a net of vines. "Huh, it worked." He grunted, modestly impressed. "Good call."

"Look!" Nick pointed back at the platform. The rampaging animals were at the platform, sniffing around and growling angrily. A tiger roared, and they started running again, heading further down the pathway away from the platform down to ground level. Their howls of rage echoed through the canopy, sending a chill down their spines.

"Oh god," Judy gasped, "Oh my god. They've gone loose. Those savages are out on the street! What if they catch someone?!"

"You're cop friends are on the way, right?" Rocket pointed out, "They should be coming here any minute now. They'll spot the crazies, catch 'em, and that'll be the end of it. Besides, at least we don't have to worry about them getting us up he-"

SNAP!

Once again the trio fell, sliding across giant leaves and mossy branches before coming to a halt fifty feet above the ground, tied together in a mass of vines. Now Judy was upside down, head dangling between their legs and tails, while Nick and Rocket were practically nose tip to nose tip. The vines bound the three of them tight, unable to move yet still keeping them out of danger on the ground. Nick and Rocket looked into each other's eyes, and the fox smirked.

"Hey now, Stripes," He joked, "If you wanted me to give you a kiss, you could've just asked."

"Oh aren't you cute?!" Rocket snapped. "Put that mouth to use and help me chew through these vines."

"Eww, I'm not having this slimy stuff in my mouth!"

"Do you want to hang here all night?!" He growled, "Start chewing! You too, Long Ears!"

"What the hell, Rocket?" Judy hissed, feeling something on the back of her head. "Why do you have multiple grenades?!" She moved her head back.

"Ow! Those aren't _grenades_ , you dumb bunny!" Neither male could see Hopps as she grew silent, blushing profusely in embarrassment. The three of them went silent as they followed Rocket's lead, biting into the binding vines. Hopefully the cops would eventually come here to answer Judy's call, and someone would come down to get them out soon... right?

xxxxxxxx

Thirty minutes later - as their mouths were coated with the foul taste of jungle vines, and they had to stop before being forced to puke - red and blue flashers finally came down the road. Several cop cars came up, stopping in front of them, revealing several various officers, including Chief Bogo himself. He looked just as grumpy and grouchy as always, as if miffed that he had to come out here to see if one of his own might be injured or dead.

"What took you assholes so long?" Rocket shouted, spitting a wad of fiber from his craw.

"There was an accident on the road." Bogo explained, motioning for one of his men to cut them loose. "A leopard ran in front of a car and caused a pileup. Had to move the cars aside and provide medical assistance. Whatever it is you called us for better be good."

The trio were cut down from the vines, and led them up the tree. The jungle had gone eerily quiet as they went up the road. Rocket's cut had healed just enough that it wasn't bleeding, but it still hurt a bunch to climb the tree.

"You wouldn't believe it, sir," Judy started to explain, "But not only did Manchas go savage, but the entire complex did as well. We're lucky to get out alive."

"You're right," Bogo responded, "I won't believe you. Not unless you have some substantial evidence to prove it."

When they got to the platform, the mammals were gone, including the body of Manchas. There was a fair amount of blood on the wood, both where Rocket stood and where Manchas died. The pathway was severely trashed by the stampede, so it was blatantly obvious that something had happened.

"See, look at this?" She pointed, "Look at all this blood. This is where we were attacked. The horde must've taken Manchas' corpse and ate him!"

"Officer Hopps, don't be ridiculous!" Bogo scolded her, "It might look like that to a scared little bunny like you, but predators don't eat people anymore. This is clearly just Rocket's blood and wood rot."

"Dat's not all mine, yuh idiot!" Rocket snapped. "Look at all of it! If dat was from me, I'd be dead!"

"So what are you saying, then? Are you admitting to killing Manchas?"

"Yeah, I am. It was self-defense. He hit me, he was going after all three of us, and if I hadn't acted, we'd be in his stomach right about now. I believe law enforcement and bounty hunters are allowed to use appropriate force to defend ourselves, and in this case, lethal force was needed. I'd think you'd be a little more grateful that I saved one of your officers."

"Maybe I would, if I didn't half-think you're lying. There's blood but no body. There's signs of a fight but no victims. There's-"

"What're you saying, meathead? Are you trying to imply that we _made this up_!?"

"I'm saying the words of a timid rookie bunny, a loose-cannon vigilante and a fox hustler about a zombie horde are questionable at best, and the evidence presented isn't good enough to back up your claims."

"And I find it ' _questionable'_ that a police chief took his sweet-ass time coming to an emergency call from his newest recruit! It only takes ten minutes to drive from the station to here. You got here in _forty!_ Even if you and your 'beasts of no competence'* actually had to deal with a crackhead on the way here, that still leaves twenty-five minutes left unaccounted for. What were you doing, stuff in' yer fat face with doughnuts and apathy?!"

"I'd watch that tone if I were you, 'Coon," Bogo warned, "before you find out how easily I can ruin your night."

"Oh buddy, you've got no idea. I've been visually assaulted by naked yaks, got in a car accident, beaten up by mob goons, survived being attacked by a crazy cat, and spent the better part of an hour dangling from a vine like a goddamn keychain. There's nothin' you can do to make this night any worse for me!"

"Enough of this. Hopps!" This whole time, Judy had been standing there, unsure of what to say or do in this situation. Her shirt was starting to fall apart on her from the tearing, and she seemed extra meek and helpless as she held her outfit together while the buffalo loomed over her. "You have failed for the last time. Give me your badge!" She looked down at his hoof, and slowly her paw went to her badge. Before she could get it, though, Rocket placed a paw on her shoulder, and stepped in between them.

"Nuh-uh," He growled, "You can pull this _bullshit_ on dumb civilians and spineless subordinates, but you won't pull it on _me."_ Gasps went through the crowd, and even Hopps, as he said that. Heedless of Bogo's reaction, he went on, "I get it, Nick and I are hard mammals to get along with. He's a sly fox, I'm a shifty 'coon. He's a deceptive street hustler, and I'm a bounty hunter and cynical asshole. We're not gonna win personality contests. But Hopps? I don't think I've met someone as genuine in intentions as her. She really wants to make this place better, and yet it seems like you've gone out of your way to dump on her. Parking duty? Giving us two days to do something none of your men have done in weeks? I can accept that you don't like me, and want to take me down a peg - I don't like you either. But she's done nothing to deserve this, and it's a dick move that I'm not gonna stand for!"

"Get out of my face before I put you in handcuffs, _boar**!"_ Bogo snapped, clenching his hooves, every bit of self-control barely keeping him from stomping him into the ground.

" _Boar?!_ Do I look like a pig to you, _ox?!"_ Rocket snapped, a day's worth of anger and frustration coalescing into this one moment, resisting his own temptation to waste this fool. Here were two alpha males tired of each other's shit, and it was about to come to a head here and now.

"Smile for the camera, boys." Nick called out, turning on the light on his phone. Everyone turned to face him, as now he approached the two irate males. "Hope you don't mind if I record this. I'm just here to hold everyone accountable in case there's any hampering of investigations, excessive use of force, unlawful arrests or assaulting of officers." He shot a look at Rocket on the last one, a clear warning to step back and let him handle it from here. Rocket glared at him, but took a few steps back.

"Now then," The fox continued, "Last I checked, we still have thirty-six hours left to find Otterton. And as of now, there's easily over a hundred savage mammals currently running free, and an empty apartment complex as evidence. I think it'd be best for the both of us if we parted ways and worked on our separate cases without any... incidents, tonight. Officer Hopps, Mr. Raccoon, our ride awaits."

With that, Nick went down to the gondola. Hopps looked like she wanted to say something, but opted not to, and followed the fox. After a moment, Rocket followed in turn, but kept his gaze on the buffalo the entire walk. They stared each other down, even as the three of them entered the gondola, and Rocket slammed the door closed. The gondola began to move and ascend up the line, yet neither of them broke. After about ten seconds, Bogo finally looked away, and appeared to be talking to the other officers.

"That's what I thought, punk." Rocket murmured, pleased that his opponent broke first. He went and took a seat on one of the benches, feeling the cool metal on his back and feet. Wait, feet? He looked down, and finally noticed that his jetboots were still gone. He sighed, knowing that they couldn't go back. Hopefully the cops would find it and he could get it in the morning, otherwise he'd to go across town barefoot like everyone else.

Thus, Nick, Judy and Rocket rode the gondola in silence, as it passed through the late night mists...

* * *

 ***For those that didn't get it, that's a reference to Bogo's voice actor (Idris Elba) starring in a Netflix show called "Beasts of No Nation".**

 ****"Boar" is the name for a male raccoon, just as "Does" are female rabbits and "Todds" are male foxes. Why are raccoons and rabbits similar to pigs and deer? Why do foxes get an actual name as a descriptor (like a man can be called a Guy, which is also a name)? The world is full of mysteries.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen. My apologies for such a long delay; between getting a new job, holidays, several other games and projects I was involved in (and a generally uncooperative muse) this took a long time to finish. And it wasn't like a halfway finish, but literally the last two or three paragraphs left, just trying to find a way to wrap it up. But now it's done, I just saw the new GotG movie, and now I'm uploading it. So, here we go, the emotional backstory chapter.**

* * *

The gondola ride was a quiet one at first. None of them really knew what to say or where to start on everything that just happened. It was also still late into the night, so each of them was starting to feel the tug of sleep and drowsiness pulling on them. Footchase, nudist club, mob shakedown and wedding, surviving a horde of berserkers, standing up to Chief Buffalo Butt - the three of them had been through a lot this past day and night. It had finally started setting into their minds, and what could you say after experiencing all that?

"Whose fox repellent is this?"

Nick and Judy - who were both up front looking out as the morning fog was starting to build - turned around to see Rocket gingerly resting on a bench, holding a little pink canister in his paw. He wasn't looking at them, but inspecting the device in his hand, only observing them through his peripheral vision. Hopps looked so embarrassed, her ears drooping, a visible blush coming through her cheeks as she nervously glanced at Nick. Wilde's face hardened, a mask unwilling to show anything, but still speaking volumes.

"Nick, I-" Judy started, trying to explain.

"It's fine, Carrots," he stated flatly, "I understand. You work a dangerous job, rabbits fear foxes, you want to protect yourself. I get it."

"Nick, I'm not like that!" She protested. "My dad gave it to me before I moved here. I only took it so he wouldn't worry about me. I would never even think about-"

"It's actually a good thing you had this on you." Rocket interrupted, looking at them. Judy's ears shot up in surprise, and there was a brief flicker of offendedness on Wilde's face as he explained, "I grabbed this after I got hit by Manchas. It says fox repellent, but I guess it works on anyone if sprayed right in the eyes. It gave me enough time to grab my gun and put a crater where his face used to be."

He leaned over on one side, favoring the one not gashed by panther claws. With a little bit of pain and a lot of seriousness, he continued, "If this spray hadn't fallen off you and into my hand, I'd be very dead right now. I owe yuh, Hopps."

Judy shuffled her feet, unsure of how to take that. Saving someone via barely acknowledged personal flaw was different, to say the least. After a little thought, she settled with, "Well, I'm glad you're okay. And, I want to thank both of you, for standing up for me back there."

"You know, it's kinda weird." Rocket mused, gently reclining back against the wall. "I would think dat, you, bein' someone nobody expected to be a cop, got picked up through government shenanigans, spending your whole life not wanting to be judged by others like you - you'd be the last person carryin' 'round a weapon meant only for the most stereotypical enemy a rabbit can have. Kinda weakens the whole ' _Anyone can be anything'_ vibe if you still treat predators like they're gonna eat ya at da drop of a hat. You tell us one thing, yet you do the opposite. Why?"

Judy looked away, taking a seat on the bench opposite of them. She held her badge in her hands, and sighed. "When I was about 8," She began, "I did a play for the Bunnyborough harvest festival. I wrote it, directed it, starred in it - it was the biggest project I had ever worked on. It was about how all of us mammals used to be savages like those guys back there, but over time we evolved to be civilized and eventually built Zootopia. It was also when I first revealed to everyone - including my parents - that I wanted to become a police officer."

"I take it they didn't like it too much." Nick said, more a statement than a question.

"They came around to it... after awhile." She admitted. "It probably helped that I have 270 other siblings, so if I turned into a disappointment, it wasn't the end of the world or anything." Both males blinked in surprise at that - _270? God, her poor mother! -_ but she continued, "But there was one kit there that wasn't as supportive as everyone else. He thought becoming a bunny cop was stupid."

"Five bucks says he's a fox." Rocket murmured.

"Gideon Gray was the school bully, and a fox who hated bunnies. After the play, he came up to some of my friends and took away the tickets they won at the fair. I demanded that he give them back, but just laughed at me and said that foxes ate rabbits. We fought, and while I got the tickets back... he left me a little mark as a reminder." Her paw went up to her cheek, where Rocket noticed that, just under her gray-white fur, there was a trio of thin pink scars. He nodded approvingly - scars built character, even ones that no one ever saw.

"I still dedicated myself to becoming an officer," She continued, "And I've tried not to let what happened effect how I interact with... other foxes. I guess I'm not as over it as I thought." She sounded uneasily, embarrassed as she said it - that she was just starting to accept the possibility that she hadn't worked out all her ingrained prejudices.

"At least you try." Nick said, leaning against the railing. His back was to them, his voice even. "I appreciate that, really. At least you're aware enough to try not to let what happened stop you from being a good person. I wish I had friends like you when I was growing up. When I was at that age, all I wanted to be was a cub scout. Learning survival tricks, selling cookies, doing community service, that kind of deal. My father has been in jail most of my life, but my mother, she worked two jobs in one of the worst neighborhoods in town. She managed to save up enough money to get me a uniform. We were so happy that day... but the only troop in our neighborhood was entirely prey. I didn't have a problem with them, but _they_ had a problem with _me._ That night, when I was supposed to swear the oath to become a member, they..." Nick stopped, gathering himself. He breathed once, twice, thrice, burying those emotions once more. When he finished, he sighed, "They pinned me to the ground, and muzzled me. I begged them to let me know what I did that was so wrong, and all they said was, 'If you thought we'd ever let a _fox_ join us, then you're even dumber than we thought.' That day, I learned two things. First, I was never going to let anything get to me again. And second, if all the world was ever gonna see was a sly fox, then there wasn't any point in being anything else."

Judy gasped, absolutely shocked. Rocket raised an eyebrow, not impressed. "That's it?" He asked, looking at them incredulously, "That's supposed to make me feel sorry for you and your painful trips down Memory Lane?" The fox and bunny looked at him like he started speaking Shi'ar. "Oh boo-hoo-hoo!" He cried mockingly, "I was bullied when I was a child! A bunch of punk kids beat me up and called me names! No one has ever had it as bad as me! My life is a complete and utter tragedy!"

They looked at him, aghast at what he was saying. "You two have no idea how good you had it." He grunted. "Parents? Siblings? Friends? Bah, there were times in my life where getting picked on by a bunch of little dipshits would've been a nice reprieve."

"How dare you!" Nick snapped, clearly offended. "What's wrong with you?! We just opened ourselves up, and you just go out and say that it isn't a big deal?"

"I didn't say dat," The raccoon countered, "I'm sure all of dat was very painful for youse two to go through. I'm jus' sayin' dat if we're goin' to the 'Crappy Life Olympics', I'm takin' home da gold. Neither of you, or Finnick, or Bogo, or anyone else in dis city or dis world has gone through da thing's I've been through."

"Oh I'm sure," Nick huffed sarcastically, "No one can ever have it worse than you. There's nothing that makes mammals act racist more than a Space Raccoon."

"Racist?!" Rocket shouted, standing up and getting in the fox's face, "You think da shit I went through in life came from _racists?!_ Buddy, I've had more shit done ta me in my first month than most people will experience in their entire _lives,_ and none o' that has anything ta do with jackasses having problems with raccoons. And I ain't gonna stand bein' judged and condescended to by some whiny lil'-"

"Rocket!" Judy interjected, getting between them, "Ease up, you're bleeding again." They looked down, and sure enough his injuries had opened up again, oozing blood down his side. "We have to take you to a hospital."

"We are _not_ going to a hospital." Rocket hissed, both in pain and annoyance. "Look... Hopps, do you know how to stitch a wound?"

"I have EMT training and I grew up on a farm." She explained. "Of course I do. But I can't do it here in a rickety gondola."

Rocket sighed. It was becoming increasingly blatant in his eyes - the "gods" who sent him here were pushing for him to bring the bunny into his circle. If he wanted this wound taken care of, and he didn't want to go to a hospital, his only other option was to bring her to her home and take care of it there. Which meant introducing her to Groot.

"Tell ya what," He said, clutching his side, "Since we're all havin' a little therapy session, let's head to my place to get patched up. There, I won't just tell you about my past, I'll _show_ you..."

* * *

It was about 2 in the morning when the trio got to his warehouse. Groot had already been back for half an hour, watching a different TV marathon - Paw and Order. He was a little surprised to hear a knocking at the door, but hoped it was Rocket. He wasn't disappointed.

"Okay Judes," The wounded raccoon warned her, "Whatever you see in there, promise me you ain't gonna run away or freak out or anythin' like dat."

"Oh please," She scoffed. "After everything that's happened today, I don't think there's anything that can surprise me."

"Oh sweet bunny of summer," Nick chuckled, quoting from Game of Bones, "You've got so much to learn."

Rocket opened up the door, and as Judy looked in, there was a brief moment when she made eye contact with something sitting on the sofa. Something big, brown and thin, with scary-looking holes for eyes. Her eyes widened in fear, and she quickly hid behind a wall outside. "Rocket?" She asked nervously, speaking in a whisper and standing stock-still, "What the holy hell is that thing on the couch?"

"Wow, that's really judgmental of you, Fluffybutt." Rocket teased. He grabbed her arm and pulled her inside, Nick closing the door behind them. "Hopps," He introduced, "This is Groot. Groot, this is Officer Judy Hopps. The one I caught the weasel with this morning."

"I am Groot." The plant-man squatted down and extended a hand to the bunny, palm up. Within his hand grew a small flower, the same color as her neck fur. "Oh." She stammered, hesitantly plucking the flower. "Thank you."

"Groot."

"He says 'Nice to meet you'." Rocket translated. "He no speak good like you and me - he can only say "I" and "Am" and "Groot", in that order. I know what he says by how he says it, so don't worry about any confusion. He's also learning to communicate through texting, but let's not make that a habit - data's expensive."

"How... How did you make him?" She asked, staring in apprehension at the giant man-tree.

" _Make_ him? Ha! I _hired_ him!" Rocket started to laugh, but winced at the pain in his side. "Hey bud, can you clear a table and get the medical kit for my friend here? Took a beating on the job today. Nick, can yuh get us some drinks? You know where the fridge's at." Rocket and Groot led the bunny into his workshop, moving aside some junk as Nick brought out some sodas and a bottle of vodka for disinfectant. Judy was given a medkit, and quickly went through it to find the necessary needle, thread and cotton balls.

As he reached back to unzip his jumpsuit, he paused, and warned Judy, "Look, Long Ears, I need you to promise me that you won't go tellin' anyone about what you see. It's gonna be weird, but I need to know you won't bolt or tell Bogo or literally anyone, ok?" Judy wanted to make a crack about him being oversensitive and repeating himself, but after seeing the walking talking tree, she realized that yeah, this raccoon was serious. She nodded. Convinced, he turned his back to her, and unzipped the top half of his jumpsuit. He heard Judy gasp, and Nick, upon entering the workshop, uttering, "What the hell?!"

"Rocket?" Hopps asked, apprehensively.

"Yes, Judes?"

"What are those... _things_ on your back?"

"Good question." He explained, and began pointing them out. "This one at the base of my neck is connected to both the computer in my brain and my larynx, and helps me speak so purdy. These things along my spine help me walk upright, and maintain the structural integrity of my bones. This one by my liver monitors my body for toxins and poisons and whatnot, and helps keep me healthy. This one at the base of my tail... I dunno what that one does. Never got the chance to find out."

There was a silence, before Judy asked, "What _are_ you?"

"I'm a raccoon, duh." He replied cavalierly.

"Rocket, I'm dead serious. If you want me to stitch you up, you need to explain yourself right now."

"Wanna know the truth?" He shrugged. "Well, for starters, I'm not from here. Not just Zootopia, Hopps - I'm from another world, another universe. You can ask Nick, I've told him part of this. I come from a world where mammals were still unevolved, savage beasts. See I wasn't always this cultured, sophisticated devil you see now. When I was young, I couldn't walk, couldn't speak, couldn't think beyond basic instincts."

"You mean… you mean you were like those mammals back in Tahunga?" Judy poured a little vodka on a cotton ball, and started cleaning up the wound.

Rocket winced from the sting, but answered, "No, not really. At least, I can't really remember a time I was that… I dunno, single-minded. I ate when I was hungry, I slept when I was tired, chased tail when it was dat time o' year. I didn't really feel happy or angry or sad, I just… _was_. I survived day to day, and that was it. I couldn't tell you how long it went on, every day seemed pretty much the same as the next. Until one day, when everything changed.

"I remember I was in a giant metal trashcan, going through half a pizza someone just threw out, when I was hit by a bright blue light in the sky. There was a lot of wind, and I felt myself getting pulled up into it. The next thing I knew, I was staring up at the light, my limbs bound to a table. I couldn't move, I could barely breathe. I had never been as scared as I was at that moment. I saw the shadow of a man come in front of me, and a dozen little mechanical arms came down on me and… started operating on my head. While conscious."

Judy stopped when he said that. "Do you know what it feels like to have your brain cut into and messed with like silly putty?" He asked rhetorically. "I do. It felt like every nerve in my body was on fire. Like a nuclear bomb was exploding behind my eyes, in my teeth, pushing against my eardrums. I was stabbed with a bunch of little needles, shooting me up with hormones and chemicals and all kinds of shit. I screamed and screamed and screamed in pain, and I could hear my voice get deeper. I could feel as the additives began to change my body - my muscles burned, my gut felt like a toxic dump. Words and images flew through my mind, filling my head with information and knowledge I never had before. When the initial download and operation stopped, I looked up at the guy, and my first words were, ' _Why? Why are you doing this?_ ' You know what he said? ' _To see if I can, of course._ ' Like it was the most obvious thing ever. 'I _'m going to make you into a weapon, and you will be the deadliest creature in existence. You should thank me when I'm done._ '"

"It went on after that," He continued as he nodded for Hopps to stitch up already, "Don't know if it went on for hours, or days, or years. Time was a damn blur in that place. The guy workin' on me was a mad scientist type by the name of Judson Jakes. He kept me strapped to that table, having his machines cut into me for god knows how long. He insisted that he kept me conscious to make sure all the nerves and connections were working properly, but I 'spect that he just liked watching' animals suffer, the sick fuck. He infused some kinda space metal into my bones, makin' dem much stronger. He put all kinds o' things in me - different chemical compounds, cybernetic augmentations, a wet-work computer in my brain. I'm pretty sure he even gave me a minor healing factor, to speed up my recovery times. I would beg for him to stop, curse him out, demand that he just fucking kill me and get it over with. You know what he'd say? ' _Oh, Subject 42-_ ' That was my name back then " _-I can't kill you now. I have a contract with the people of Ro-Kekt to make an army of supersoldiers out of other planet's vermin. What kind of scientist would I be if I backed out of a deal just because one of my subjects was feeling sad?'_ Goddamn I hate that guy."

The bunny briefly paused as he growled, but continued stitching as he continued talking. "Eventually, something happened. The place we were in was a space station near an asteroid belt, and an abnormally large meteor shower was striking it. The main reactor had gone out, and the place switched to auxiliary power. The transfer somehow turned off the security features of the wing I was in, and the straps unlocked as the door to my room opened up. I got off that table, and I ran outta there faster than I'd ever moved before. My first kill was some security guard guy with tentacles for arms, holding a Mark 12 XK-035 lasgun with an added semi-automatic mini-rocket shooter. He tried to shoot me, but I got to him first. Ripped his throat out with my teeth - blood tasted like extra salty fish, real nasty stuff. I took the gun and just started running.

"I have no idea if I would've made it out of that place, if I hadn't met Blackjack O'Hare and Lylla. Blackjack - Subject 37 - was, well, a hare, but blue, and always wearing these big orange goggles. Lylla - Subject 69 - was an otter. Think Ms. Otterton, but taller, and with your eyes. A real beauty. They were stuck in a shoot-out with a bunch of robot guards, and I came in and saved them by killing them all. Center o' mass, _pop-pop-pop!_ We recognized each other as fellow experiments pretty quickly, and after a brief talk decided to work together to break out of the place. Blackjack had picked up a heavy machine gun, and was just mowing down bitches left and right. Lylla was the smart and sneaky one - she only had a little laspistol, but she was deadly accurate with it, and she knew how to operate the doors and other machines.

"We made our way from one end of the station to another, even as it was starting to fall apart from the constant bombardment. We had just about made it to the hangar bay, when that bastard Jakes stood in our way. He had such... such a happy expression on his face. He couldn't be more proud of his experiments, how they had torn through such tough security. Sometimes I wonder if our breakout was something he allowed, like it was some kind of graduation test to see if all his 'work' had paid off. There was a moment where it looked like he was about to say something - maybe try to convince us to work for him, rule the galaxy together as his puppets, that kinda crap - but Blackjack and I, we didn't give him a chance. We filled that bastard with more plasma and hole than most star engines. Didn't even bother makin' sure he was good an' dead afterwards, just ran for the nearest spaceship and hightailed it outta there. The place got torn up by the shower, but by then we were already on the other side of the galaxy, trying to start our lives over."

Rocket reached for the bottle, and took a swig. "Found out pretty fast that we were the freaks of the universe. Took us days to find someone to help us who didn't think we were literal vermin, and even then the bastards didn't take us seriously until Blackjack pointed a gun at his head. Hell, that seemed to be his only way of dealing with people outside of the two of us. I never asked him, but I think he remembered more of his past than I did - rabbits fear everything instinctively, and he got picked because of his jumpy nature. At first, I figured that, I dunno, him being so aggressive and trigger-happy was his way of makin' sure he never felt that old fear again. Now though, lookin' back, it's more likely that he got a kick giving others the fear and pain he went through. He never turned on me or Lylla... but damn, there were times when he'd go in a frenzy, and I'd keep my paw on my grip 'til he cooled off.

"Lylla, now she became the brains of our little group. She was created for more of an espionage angle; seduction and interrogation, stealth and hacking, spy stuff, you know? She kept us employed and kept us out of trouble - for the most part, anyway. She knew economics and contracts like I know guns and bombs. Once she established herself in the markets, money just flew our way like a neverending waterfall of credits and jobs. You'd like her, Hopps; ever the optimist, and always the smartest one in the room. I don't want to imagine what Jakes had done to her or had in mind, but it sure never seemed to effect her. She got me out of some _real_ dark places when things got rough, and nothin' could brighten my day more than her smile... except maybe building a killer robot. Depends on my mood."

"Sounds like you two were pretty close." Nick observed.

"Let's just say I haven't met a girl like her since. And I'm not just sayin' dat 'cause she's a one-off like me."

"What happened to them?" Judy asked, putting the finishing touches on the wound.

"We all ended up heading our separate ways. Blackjack went and formed his own pirate gang, and headed off to the Outer Rim. Lylla got a job working with Lord Dyvyne's weapon manufacturing business. She actually went legit, she made something of herself. Me though? Pfft, I met this big blockhead a month after Lylla left, bein' sold as an exotic pet... like I might've been. I admit, I felt sorry for the lug, and so I bought him. I wanted to set him free, but I guess Groot's are a sentimental bunch, 'cause he hasn't left my side since. I give him a cut of the profit, but it's not like trees can just go out and buy stuff you know?"

"I am Groot."

"I know, I'm about to get to the good part." He then told them about his adventures with the Guardians - getting sent to the Kyln, meeting the Collector and the fight at Knowhere, the battle of Xandar, all that good stuff. Judy had finished stitching him up, but both of them just sat there as he went into detail about Quill, Gamora and Drax, what an Infinity Stone is and does, how dangerous Ronan and Thanos were, and all other kinds of things about his galaxy. Even for Nick, it never really occurred to him what it meant to live in a place like that - so dangerous and vast. It kind of made sense now, why Rocket could be such a jackass at times.

You had to be a little shit sometimes to survive in the depths of space.

Rocket eventually looked over his shoulder, and spotted the stitches. "Oh hey, you're done." He grunted, getting up. "Thanks. I know goin' to a hospital would've been easier, but between the augments and-" He waved vaguely to indicate the whole story he just told, and sighed, "-There's no way it would've worked out. Dat's two I owe yuh, Long Ears. At dis rate, I'm gonna have to keep a Tab."

Judy gave a half-hearted smile, as her mind went a mile a minute. All of this new information just got dropped on her, and she had so many questions - Was he really a mindless savage once? How many people had he killed? Who were those two godly voices speaking to him? How was he able to make all these different gadgets scattered across the room with just scrap? All these and more ran through her brain, before she hesitantly ended up asking, "S-so... uh, what's the plan now? Where do we go from here?"

"Plan?!" The raccoon scoffed. "It's two-thirty in the morning! I've been up since dawn, got in a car wreck, beat up by mobsters _and_ nearly got eaten by a crazy cat! My only plan now is to get some sleep, recharge and come back at our case in the morning." He got off the table, and turned back to the two of them. "Y'all can spend the night here, and we'll come together over this over breakfast or somethin'. Nick, you've got the couch. Groot, see if we still have a spare Insta-Mattress around for the lady."

"Groot!" The floral clossus agreed, leaving the room to find the sleeping gear. "I'll text Finnick," Nick yawned, "See if he can drive us to... wherever it is we need to go. Night, guys." He in turn left the room, leaving the cop and the former lab experiment alone. Without prompting or so much as a goodnight, Rocket went over to the back wall and began climbing a ladder to his bunk.

"Wait, Rocket!" She protested, reaching out to stop him. Her paw grabbed his shoulder, and he stopped to look back. "Thank you... for telling me." She said, "I know you didn't have to, but it means a lot. I can't imagine what it must've been like-"

"Don't." He sighed, pulling her paw off. "You couldn't understand what happened to me. _No one_ on this rock could understand. I wouldn't _want_ you to understand, 'cause I wouldn't wish what happened to me on my worst enemy, let alone someone like you." His eyes grew distant and hard, looking away as he continued, "What happened to Manchas... what happened to all those mammals... I can't help but think of me and all those animals Jakes experimented on. When we find the bastards who did this, you better get them first. 'Cause if I get 'em first, I'll give 'em a fate far kinder than what we were given, and put a hole where their face used to be..."

* * *

 **Now, now it's personal. The next chapter involves a little change in tone - a little bit of comedy, a little detective work and intrigue, a little bit o' romance, all within the most dangerous and terrifying place in the world - a capital office building.**


	10. Chapter 10

It was approaching five in the morning when the three crimefighters began to stir. Judy, ever the early riser, got up first. It took her a moment to remember that she had spent the night here in the warehouse rather than her apartment. It also took a moment to realize her current uniform was falling apart, the sides of her shirt and vest finally torn open while she slept. As everyone else was still fast asleep, she quietly crept out of bed, picked up some needle and thread, and went to the bathroom to sew up her clothes so they wouldn't "malfunction" until she could get over to her place to change. Her pocket contents were left on a counter in the workshop, right next to a little coffee machine.

About a few minutes later, Rocket also woke up, though with much less pep in his step. The raccoon was never a morning person, and yesterday didn't help things one bit. Slowly and carefully, yet still bleary-eyed from tiredness, he came down from his bunk, and went over to the "kitchen" part of his workshop. It was very basic - hot iron, microwave, mini-fridge and freezer, and a new deluxe coffee maker to help jumpstart the day. More out of muscle-memory than conscious thought, he pressed a button to brew a fresh cup, and started rummaging through his supplies for a quick breakfast. It annoyed him to no end that meat products were so hard to come by in Zootopia - the Prey Folk were so timid and skittish about Predators engaging in their old, dangerous ways that only certain specialty stores carried genuine meat, and even then it was the not as good meats like fish, reptile, or if you had money, bird.

He was grumbling absentmindedly about the lack of red meat and the throbbing pain in his side when he heard a phone ring right next to him. Not even looking, he picked it up, accepted the call, and in a voice even more scratchy and husky from sleep, growled out a "Y'ello'."

 _"Uhhh, who're you?"_ The caller asked, surprised and with a slight accent. _"Where's Judy?"_

Rocket looked down at the phone, and was immediately wide awake. In his stupor, he had answered Hopps' phone by mistake, which was also set to MuzzleTime. He was on a live videofeed with a pair of middle-aged rabbits, dressed in farmer attire in a brightly lit living room. Several smaller rabbits could be seen in the background, though they didn't seem to be paying attention. It was in that brief moment that Rocket - half naked, fur messy and scraggly, answering a call from a policeman's parents, on a phone which he didn't own, in crappy-looking warehouse, and a raccoon - realized that this looked pretty bad.

Quickly, he adjusted the phone's position so it only showed his front, and put on his best friendly face as he said, "Ohh, hey, you must be Mr. and Mrs. Hopps."

"Uh, yeah - I mean yes, we are! How do you know our daughter?" The father demanded, trying to sound tough and yet failing horribly.

"Verne, hold it. We don't have to be so confrontational." The mother hissed, tapping his shoulder to stop.

"Me?" He said, he began walking out of the kitchen, looking around to find the bunny in question, "I'm her..."

 _Partner-neighbor-drug dealer-work associate-pimp-_

"...Roommate." He internally cringed as his mouth went with the weakest excuse he could think of.

"Roommate?" Verne sounded skeptical, as he should. "She didn't mention anything about a roommate last time we spoke."

"It was a recent arrangement," Rocket continued lying, "Her place-"

 _Collapsed-burned down-was robbed-infested with fleas and ticks-_

"-Had a major sewage backup in her bathroom. Completely covered the place in feces. I lived a couple doors down, and I'm letting her crash while the cleaners, well, clean it."

He must've been channeling Nick's hustle, as both of them were taken aback by the "news". Rocket glanced up at the living room, and saw that both Nick and Groot were sitting on the couch, snacking on cereal while some children's cartoon was playing (what else was good to watch at 5:30?). He angled the phone away from them, and continued, "Yeah, let me find her real quick. She's prob' busy getting ready for work n' stuff. Hey Judes, where you at?"

"I'm in here, hold on a minute!" The bunny called out from the bathroom. He went right over, and quickly opened the lockless door. "It's your parents." He explained, quickly tossed the phone at her, and closed the door behind him. It was only as he started walking away did he realize that he had caught a glimpse of her... _topless_.

 _Huh. So that's what bunny boobs look like. Nice._

Several minutes after that, Judy emerged from the bathroom, her uniform sewn up but red in the face. She glared at the fox and the tree, who looked at her curiously. "Where did he go?" She growled.

"Roomie went that way." Nick pointed down the hall. Hopps groaned in angry embarrassment, and went to the workshop.

"Sewage backup?!" She shouted, "That's what you told my parents!? That we're roomies?!"

"What, and telling them that you spent the night at an outer space bounty hunter's bachelor pad sounds better? It's the best thing I could think of at the time." He turned to face her, and she stopped in her tracks. He was in an old-fashioned suit, with short pants stopping at his shins, a belt, red gloves, and a dark blue jacket with red highlights and buttons. He noticed that she was staring at the outfit, and shrugged. "It's my only other outfit, don't judge."

"I-I'm not," She said quickly, "That just, it looks really good on you."

"Thank you. Nick just keeps saying it makes me look like a pirate. He's jus' jelly that I've got more swag than him."

Hopps rolled her eyes. The two of them went back to the living room, and she asked, "So, what's the plan now? How are we gonna find hundreds of bloodthirsty mammals?"

"We could check the jam-cams," Nick suggested between bites, "There are cameras along every road and every major intersection. We could start at Tahunga and work our way out to see where they went."

"Yeah, But," Judy pointed out, "With all the mammals missing, Chief Bogo will be going through all the footage. And after last night's escapades, we'll be the last ones he allows to see them."

"You're forgettin', though," Rocket countered in between sips of coffee, "You an' I have a certain wooly lady-friend on the inside. If we can meet up wit' 'er-"

"She could get us private access to the vid-feeds!" Nick finished.

"Exactly, my dudes. All we need is a ride over to the capital building."

"I know a bus route that passes by here to Savannah Square." Judy volunteered. "Should pass by within the hour."

"Then let's get to it! We've got work to do!"

As they left, it was only then that Groot happened to look at his phone, and only then remembered the video he took last night. Oh well, he'd just have to show them when they come back...

* * *

Following that little incident, Rocket, Nick and Judy fetched a taxi, and made their way to Town Hall. If there were CC Cameras all across the city, there was bound to be some that recorded last night's events. Rocket just hoped they'd get there before Chief Butthole and his gunslingers* did.

Even at 8 in the morning, the place was abuzz with activity. Every phone was ringing, as mammals desperately searched for answers about missing friends and relatives. Judy visibly winced when she heard the stark news - the missing mammals number had jumped from 16 to 474 overnight. It wasn't just predators now, either - the vics ranged from elephants and gazelles all the way down to meerkats. The apartment complex had been quarantined after blood and "tissue" was found, and all of Tahunga Street had been placed on lockdown. The media was in a frenzy, as reporters and cameramammals were pestering anyone they could catch. The trio were lucky enough to enter through a backdoor, as they searched for a certain sheep.

It didn't take too long to find Dawn, though it wasn't exactly a good time to show up. Bellweather was gathering up a large stack of folders which had fallen on the ground, while she and Mayor Lionheart were having a rather heated discussion.

"Sir, I know you're busy," She insisted, "But you need to sign off on these contracts. They're essential to-"

"I don't care, Smellweather!" The lion growled exasperatedly. "We're in the middle of a crisis here! I don't have time to fill out business deals with trigger-happy vigilantes!"

"Hey, Mister Mayor!" Rocket called out as they approached. Like someone flipping a switch, Lionheart's entire demeanor changed.

"Ah, Mr. Raccoon!" He turned to face them, all smiles, "How wonderful it is to see you. I-"

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine." Rocket said in a smarmy, verging on explicitly sarcastic tone. Nick smiled and nodded approvingly as he went on, "I couldn't help but overhear that you're about to sign on those contracts. Say, you given any thought to funding that Arc-Powered Titanium Plant I suggested?"

Lionheart just stared blankly at him, not having the slightest clue on what he said. "You didn't read that part? Bah, it was way in the back. What about the Stasis Nets for the drones?" Still nothing. "Ok, what about the Holographic Displays for traffic and advertisements? The Antigrav engines for mass transit? The Full Body Scans for clinics and hospitals? Surely you must've read _some_ of all that paperwork Ms. Bellweather's been giving you, right?"

The lion looked at him quizzically. He was about to respond, but then Rocket snapped his fingers, and continued, "You know what? I bet it just slipped your mind. No hard feelings, I get it. I mean, all that campaigning and press conferences and talking with special interests must _really_ eat up all your time and energy." He placed a paw on Dawn's shoulder, who was looking bewildered by this entire display. "I tell yuh, you're _really_ lucky having this lil' ewe working for you. Well organized, great negotiator, sharp as a tack. I can't imagine how difficult it would be running this place without someone as capable as her backing you up, you know?"

The Mayor glanced over at the sheep, who was in turn glancing back and forth between the two of them. "Yes," Lionheart admitted, begrudgingly, "I suppose it would be very difficult without S-... Ms. Bellweather."

"Oh, that reminds me," Rocket stated, wrapping up the hustle, "I believe the paperwork needs to be signed _today._ We would also like Dawn's assistance for a teensy-weensy bit - kinda workin' against the clock on a case connected to all this confusion here." He gestured to all the panicking bureaucrats running about the office. "We'd wait, but surely you can handle signing a bunch of papers on your own, amirite? We'll do our thing real quick, you do yours, my people talk with your people, and uh, who knows? Maybe Rocket Enterprises will be making a sizable donation to your next campaign."

Lionheart looked at them, and then at all the files on the ground. "Fine," He growled, miffed at this inconvenience, "Five minutes. Go do whatever it is you need. Make it quick."

"Thanks Lionshart- _heart!_ Lion _heart!"_ Rocky said, turning and nodding to the others. "Let's go, guys."

The four of them started heading to Bellweather's office - a good distance away from a grumpy lion signing way too many forms than necessary - when the ewe pulled them off to the side. She gazed at Rocket, like it was the first time she was really seeing him him, and her eyes glistened. "No one has ever stood up against Lionheart like that," She murmured, "Especially for me."

"Hey, us little guys gotta stick together." He said causally, "You've got my back, and I've got yours, right?"

His answer came as she reached out and embraced him in a bearhug, her poofy hair brushing against his chin. Rocket tentatively returned the hug, caught off guard by the sudden display of emotion. "Thank you." She whispered, sniffling, "You don't know how nice it is to get recognition for anything that you do. To be noticed by someone, you know?"

"Don't worry about it, Bells." He said, patting her back, "Who cares what your boss thinks? He's just a figurehead. We all know who has the _real_ power around here."

Dawn blushed, and shyly looked away. "Oh, you're just saying that."

"Don't sell yourself short." He broke off the hug, and placed his arms on both Dawn and Judy's shoulders as they went down the hall. "You've already got us started on making huge changes for this city. We're all going to be heroes once we're done."

"I dunno about lil' ole' me," The sheep chuckled, "But you and Hopps? When I think about the future, you know what I see? I see you, Rocket Raccoon, wealthiest philanthropist and businessmammal in Zootopia. I see you, Judy Hopps, as the first police chief of ZPD to make this us a crime-free city."

"And _I_ see _Mayor_ Dawn Bellweather, rising star in politics who made it all happen." He insisted, smiling internally as her eyes lit up like fireworks. _Looks like someone has a dream._

"Ahem, forgetting someone?" Nick interrupted, mock-indignant. "What about me?"

"You can do whatever you want. I don't leave friends out to dry. Lil' bit of advice, though - somethin' I've learned over te years, there's no bettah revenge than success. Nothin' will feel bettah than drivin' by where those punks live in a big shiny hovercar, courtesy of yours truly."

"Careful now, I may just hold you to that."

They came to and entered Dawn's office, which in truth was little more than a refurbished broom closet. There was a large boiler, multiple servers, cleaning equipment, boxes of files, one five-watt lightbulb dangling from the ceiling, and way in the back was a tiny desk with a decent-looking computer. " _This_ is where you work?" Nick observed sympathetically. "The Assistant Mayor of Zootopia does business in a supply room? I'm surprised they even shilled out the money for a sticky note on your door."

"Ugh, don't get me started." Dawn groaned as she sat at her desk, opening the programs. "Sometimes I think the Pred' only hired me to get the sheep vote. Now, which cameras do you need?"

Judy tells them the location, and the sheep begins typing and scrolling through the footage. As she did so, Nick glanced between her, Rocket and Judy, and slowly and carefully raised a paw to Dawn's poofy hairdo. The cop and cyborg looked at him like he was high, and Rocky mouthed, _"Dude, what're you doing?"_

"It's so fluffy," Nick whispered, "I've wanted to do this for ages, but they never let me get this close. Here, you feel." He nodded to Rocket. Judy looked at them like they were crazy, but the raccoon shrugged, and started feeling the wool as well. _Damn, it **is** really soft. _He thought, biting back a chuckle.

"Who's touching my wool?!" Dawn demanded, glaring angrily at the fox. Nick quickly pointed to Rocket, who's hand was still outstretched. Bellweather's blush came back, and she looked away bashfully. "Oh," She said, "Do you... do you like it?"

"Uhhh... _yeeeeaah,"_ Rocket improvised quickly, "It's uh, soft like silk, and fluffy like, like freshly picked cotton?" He hadn't meant for it to come off sounding like a question, but he still hadn't really mastered this "flattery" deal.

"Thank you. I've been using a new conditioner. Ah, here's the camera feed." Onscreen, there was the feed from the camera above the gondola.

"Hold on," Rocket asked, "Can you switch to the one by the water tower at the top of the building? That's where the asshole that kicked me in the nuts and poisoned the water." The ewe glanced up at him, but did as she was asked, and switched it to an overhead view of the water storage platform. They looked at the footage of Rocket and a tall, thin wolf fighting, talking, Rocky getting a nutshot, and a big blue explosion in the water. "Zoom in." The sheep zoomed in on the wolf, and they all looked in to get a good look at the guy. Alas, the lighting was too low, and he was looking away.

"Damn, can't get a good look at the guy." He grunted. "Can we follow where he went?" Dawn glanced at him, and scanned through several nearby cameras along the nearby road. They could see the wolf cross the road, scamper into the underbrush, and disappear from sight.

"The cameras only cover the streets." She apologized. "I can't find him."

"Might've gone into the subways." Nick suggested. "They cross all over the city, and there're no cameras down in the tunnels."

"What about all those savages?" Judy reminded them, "We need to know where they went." Dawn typed away, and soon it switched to the bottom roads as the hordes rampaged everything in sight. They had passed by three cameras when several vans pulled up and stopped several hundred yards in front of them. Dozens of mammals in security gear jumped out, holding advanced weaponry that looked awfully familiar.

"Those're my guns." Rocket grunted.

The wolves began firing into the crowd, bolts of energy stunning the berserk mammals, falling onto the ground and each other. The guns fired rapidly, and soon piles of bodies began to collect in front of them. The wolves continued firing, never having to reload for the entire two minutes that the horde charged against them. Eventually, they ran out of bodies to shoot before they needed to cool down their guns. Several of the wolves began tying up the savages and tossing them into their vans, while others went up the road, picking up various scraps of clothes and items, removing any potential evidence of their disappearance. Rocket's eyebrows raised as the camera feed went briefly back to the platform they were on, and one white-furred wolf picked up a tiny pair of-

"Those're my shoes!" He declared, "Those bastards took my flying boots!"

"Oh, now _that's_ a step too far!" Nick quipped. "Won't someone think of the _shoes!"_

"Quick, switch camera angles." Judy ordered. "Let's see where those vans drove off to." Dawn switched the camera angles, following the vans down the twisting roads of the Rainforest District. They followed the vans up until they entered a tunnel, where they failed to exit the other side after a minute of waiting. "Where'd they go?"

Both Dawn and Nick spoke up, glancing at each other as they realized they were thinking the same thing. "There's a secret side tunnel there," The ewe explained, switching to a different feed that showed the vans going down a lonely road. "They lead to the Cliffside Falls Sanitorium, which has been abandoned for several years. It'd have enough room to store... however many Savages are out there."

"Then that's where we need to go next." Judy concluded, "If that's where they went, that's where they're keeping Otterton as well. We don't have a moment to lose." The three of them got up and were heading out the closet door. Before Rocket could leave, though, Dawn placed a hoof on his shoulder.

"R-Rocky - Y-you don't mind if I call you that, right?" Dawn stammered, looking nervous all of a sudden.

"Uhh, yeah, sure." He said quickly. _Hmm, this is odd._

"Yeah, so," She continued ( _Is she blushing AGAIN?),_ "I was thinking. Maybe, after this case is done and you have a little free-time, we could go out for a cup of coffee?"

 _That sounds like she's... Naw, that can't be it._ "Oh sure," He replied quickly, "We can do that. What other things do you want to discuss?"

"Ummm..." She shuffled her feet a bit, and she was looking away from him rather nervously. "I actually meant more like just the two of us, hanging out and stuff."

"What, like a date?"

She steeled herself. "Yes, like a date."

And there it was. The offer, hanging in the air between them like a spray of musky perfume. Rocket stared at her as his mind went through all the options and possibilities. Part of him wanted to say no: She was shorter and fluffier than he usually went for; She was a politician, and by that alone it should've disqualified her from any romantic interest; she was technically a customer _and_ an employer, so adding a more-than-friendly subtext would just complicate their relationship even more. But then he considered the pros: She was in a position of power, and should be exploited if the opportunity presents itself; doing this could cement the relationship between them, giving him a bigger advantage in business and negotiation; it's been months since he's got some and (to be perfectly honest with himself) she _was_ rather cute.

 _Eh, why not?_

"You know what? That sounds great." He answered, bringing out his winning smile. "I would be more than happy to, uh, share a few drinks."

"Great!" She agreed, "Uh, great. I guess I'll see you later, yeah?" They exchanged their awkward goodbyes, and Rocket quickly left to catch up with his partners.

"Well aren't you a charmin' lil' devil?" Nick jeered as he came back to them.

"Don't be jealous 'cause I'm a striped Casanova," Rocket replied with a cocky smirk. "We know I drive dem ewes crazy."

"Well, I think you two would make a cute couple," Judy observed, silencing them both. "You were really supportive back there. I bet if you were in her corner, she really _could_ become the first sheep Mayor of Zootopia. And maybe she'd help bring out that sensitive side you've got deep inside."

"Me?! Sensitive?! Do you even know me, Fluffybutt?" He chuckled, as they walked out of the Hall. Meanwhile, Dawn had remained within her "office", pulling out her phone and rapidly typed away.

 _Doug, there's footage of you in costume. Rocket and Hopps are getting close. Lay low for awhile._

 ** _We could settle this whole thing right now if you let us do our work._**

 _Excuse me?_

 _ **You know perfectly well how things can go south fast if word gets out of our operation. That bunny and raccoon can cause just enough trouble to get us both in jail. Let me go to the asylum. Take out the loose ends.**_

 _Fine. Go to Cliffside. Killed the Infected. Be discrete. Hopps and Rocket remain UNHARMED. Everyone else is irrelevant. Screw this up and I give Woolter's internet history to CPS._

 ** _Copy that._**

"So," Woolter asked, sipping from his coffee, "What's the plan?"

Doug put the phone on the table, and turned to face the opposite wall. Hanging from a pair of hooks were an airsoft gun, and a rubber wolf mask used for Halloween parties.

"Get prepped," He grunted, grabbing both, "We're going hunting today."

* * *

* Reference to Idris Elba as Roland Deschain in the upcoming Dark Tower film.


End file.
